


One and One Makes One

by likehandlingroses



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: (there's an OC...or IS THERE?), Angst with a Happy Ending, Chance Meetings, Drama, F/M, Slow Burn, chew on that for a bit!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-03-17 23:05:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 34,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13669155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likehandlingroses/pseuds/likehandlingroses
Summary: Three years after banishing Rumplestiltskin from Storybrooke, Belle is finally ready to set out and live the life she's always wanted. However, a confusing and awkward chance encounter with Rumple leaves her wondering what that life might entail.





	1. Chapter 1

At the sound of the seat belt signal, Belle’s head popped up from the stack of papers she was perusing. Not two seconds after she’d finally pulled her head away from the window, and they were landing. She’d hoped to get through more of her reading. It was one of the reasons she’d justified flying to New York from Maine instead of simply taking her car. 

As she chanced another glance out the window, she knew she’d made the right choice. She had almost forgotten how much she wanted to see the world, and what better place to start than the skies? 

The years since she’d banished Rumple had slipped away from her. She’d thrown herself into rebuilding the library, trying to keep her grief at bay with whatever she could. Before she knew it, three years had gone by. The fear she’d felt in the weeks following the town line’s repair was a distant memory, for it appeared Rumple--for whatever reason--would not return to Storybrooke. 

Belle managed to get a taxi cab to her hotel without too much trouble (for which she was quite proud of herself), and the traffic allowed for her to get through more of her papers. Her acceptance wasn’t a sure thing yet, but Matthew Samson liked her. He wouldn’t have asked her to come and tour the campus if he didn’t. 

“Oh, he likes you, that’s for sure!” Belle could practically hear Ruby’s reply, and she rolled her eyes at the thought of her smirk. 

They were friends. Not even friends. He was an admissions counselor, and she was trying to get into school, not start a relationship. 

“Still…” Ruby’s voice insisted, and Belle couldn’t have been happier to see her hotel in the distance. 

Matthew had told her he’d meet her at the hotel so they could talk over dinner, and Belle’s eyes scanned the lobby looking for him. He’d sent a picture of himself to her, but it hadn’t been especially distinctive, and after a few seconds of futile searching, Belle became distracted by the magnificent Christmas tree right in the center of the lobby. 

It was a bit much, she thought, eyeing the giant velvet ribbons with distaste. Sometimes, less was more with such things. Nevertheless, a sizable group of children were chattering under the tree, enamored with the massive “gifts” lying beneath it. She looked at them too, for a moment, and then her eyes happened upon another figure under the tree.

It was Rumple, standing just aside of the group of children. Belle felt her face grow hot with embarrassment.

Of course Matthew hadn’t been real. She’d been foolish, to never think for a second that he’d do something like this. Something to lure her out, to trick her into seeing him again. 

She was moments away from simply bolting out of the building when he looked up and saw her. His jaw went slack, and she could see his hand gripping his cane so tightly his knuckles must have gone white. 

“Belle.” 

She could almost hear the way he used to he say her name, though he said it so quietly she could only see his lips move. He walked towards her, half dazed, something like a smile creeping onto his face. Belle’s back stiffened; she didn’t think she could run off now even if she tried. A feeling of dread kept her feet pinned solidly to the floor. 

He stopped in front of her, thankfully still outside of arm’s reach. 

“You came back,” he said, the smallest hint of a question in his voice. Belle might have pitied him if the words hadn’t driven her to outrage. The fear of bursting into angry, humiliated tears prevented her from answering at first, but she steeled herself anyway, trying to draw her anger into her head and away from her heart.

“It’s probably my fault for not knowing this would happen,” she said, trying not to wince as her voice shook despite her best efforts. “I thought I’d made it so you couldn’t hurt me anymore, and you’ve found a way.”

Rumple’s smile vanished as she spoke. He shook his head, and--to Belle’s alarm--stepped closer.

“We can talk about it. All of it. And I know...I know we might not ever be what we were. But it can be better, now.  _ I’m _ better, now, Belle. And there’s so many things I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

Belle felt those angry tears pricking in her eyes, and she laughed. “Better? Is that what you call this? Pretending to be someone else, getting me to come here, and then...is this supposed to be a surprise? You’re not any different, Rumple. It’s still the same lies.”

“Lies? But I…?” Rumple looked perplexed, but his confusion would have to wait, for behind him Belle spotted Matthew. Or rather, she spotted a young man waving at her and surmised the rest, giving a hesitant flop of her own hand back. 

So Matthew did exist. Not only that, he looked thrilled to see her.

“You made it!” he said, taking her hand in both of his own and giving it a firm shake. 

“I did!” she replied, knowing she should say more but feeling altogether too nauseous about the situation to do so. They stood in an awkward silence before Matthew turned to Rumple.

“Another New Yorker friend of Belle’s?” he asked, not waiting for an answer before holding out his hand. “Matthew Samson.”

Rumple didn’t say anything in reply, though he took Matthew’s hand. Belle hoped she didn’t look as sick as he did. Thankfully, Matthew didn’t seem to notice, and only turned back to Belle, still beaming. He really was quite handsome. There was something alive about him, something dynamic, that photographs hadn’t captured. 

“I’m so glad you got in okay,” he said. “I’ll let you finish up your conversation, and then we can go grab some food and talk.”

“Sounds good,” Belle said, and Matthew retreated to one of the cushy chairs towards the back of the lobby. 

She looked back at Rumple, who nodded, a flash of pain crossing his face. “You’re not here to see me.”

His face went red, then, and he looked straight down at the black-and-white marble floor. Perhaps he wanted to sink into it just as much as she had a moment ago. Belle didn’t know whether the thought made her feel better or not. She hadn’t decided if she quite believed this was all an accident. Of all the places in the world for him to be...how had he found himself here by sheer coincidence?

“No, I’m not,” she finally said, feeling almost sorry. 

“I didn’t know you would be here, Belle, I swear,” he said, looking back up at her. “And I shouldn’t have assumed you were here for me, of course you wouldn’t be. And now I’ve...I’m sorry.”

It took only a moment of locking eyes with Rumple for Belle to know he was being honest with her. Rumple could deceive with his words, twist reality with his wit...but all he could do with his heart was hope to hide it, for it always told the truth. She could see, clear as anything, that none of what had just transpired had seemed possible to him to him only three minutes ago. 

She  _ did _ feel sorry, now. It was one thing for her to be living her life happily without him. It was quite another for Rumple to encounter that happy life by accident, when he had fervently believed she’d come all this way to see him, after so much time apart. And of course he had. Their meeting here was the sort of coincidence one only read about in books. Indeed, Belle couldn’t quite figure why Rumple was there at all--though now it felt entirely inappropriate to ask. Then again, nothing she was thinking of to say felt right. Somehow, it had been better when she’d seen him as an adversary.

“Papa! Can we see the next one now?”

A small boy, perhaps about four, ran up to them from the Christmas tree and tugged on Rumple’s sleeve. At first, Belle assumed the child had run up to the wrong parent in confusion. But then Rumple, giving her only the faintest of guilty glances, looked down at the boy and ruffled his hair.

“One minute, alright? Get your sisters.”

The boy nodded and ran off. Belle now knew even less what to say. He had children, now. Children he was taking out to look at Christmas trees.

“I didn’t know you were here with...anyone,” she said, finally. 

“There’s no school, and I’m off today, so we’re just looking at the decorations, you know? I think it’s too cold, myself, but they don’t mind it so much.”

He smiled at her, perhaps forgetting for a moment the wounds that had been reopened when Belle entered the lobby. Belle returned his smile and nodded, though she wanted to say much more. That she was happy for him, that he looked well (for he did look well, she realized. Less put together than she’d known him to be, but more content, somehow). That she was relieved to be wrong, not just for her sake, but for his. That she’d missed him. That she loved him, still, so much. 

But she could say that least of all.

Rumple had either sensed her discomfort or been overcome by his own, for he said:

“Well, you have someone you’re meeting. On purpose. And we’ve got to go find an even bigger tree, somehow.” He laughed to himself before looking at Belle. “I’m sorry for...well, for many things, but this--”

“--it’s okay,” she said, feeling tears creeping on her again, though these were of an utterly different sort. “Now that I know you didn’t make up a person or stalk me here...I’m glad I saw you.”

“You are?” Rumple asked, looking dazed at the news. 

“Yeah,” she said, her voice soft for fear of breaking. “I was worried. And now I’m not.”

“Me too,” he said, smiling again. Then a cry of “Papa!” came from behind him. 

“I’m coming!” he said, and he gave her a nod before turning to go. Belle’s stomach twisted in a knot at his departure, and it took her only a second to call him back. 

“Rumple?”

He turned around so quickly she thought he might fall. 

“Yes?”

“I’ll be here for the week,” she said. “If you want to talk, sometime.”

If she’d had any doubts, Rumple’s expression of relief assured Belle she’d made the right decision in asking him. He’d made a life for himself that was free of darkness and duplicity, and now all that remained was the man she saw in front of her. How long had he wondered whether he’d ever have this chance, and how many times had he been close to grabbing for it himself before pulling back, afraid of her repulsion and rejection? 

“You’d want to?” he finally managed.

“It’s why I asked,” Belle joked, though she knew Rumple could hardly hear her answer over his own mind processing her initial offer. “Here, I’ll give you my number…”

She reached out a hand for his phone, and Rumple fumbled in his pocket for it.

“Papa, it’s been one minute!” The little boy came running up to them again. 

“I know, son,” Rumple replied. “Let me just finish up here.”

He handed his phone off to Belle, then looked at his son. “This is Belle,” he explained. “She’s a...friend.”

Rumple gave a nervous glance to Belle, who smiled. Relieved, he turned back to his son and placed a hand on his shoulder. “And this is Benji.”

He pointed over at the Christmas tree, where two girls, both older than Benji, were standing at the ready. “And over there’s Josie and Meg. Who are waiting very patiently for me to finish.”

The pointedness of his final comment was not lost on Benji, who huffed in frustration, though there was amusement on his face as well. 

“Papa!”

His feet were pattering on the ground, making stomps that were so tiny they could hardly be called stomps at all. They were more anxious than angry, however, particularly when coupled with Benji’s grasping of his father’s hand. Belle laughed softly at the sight.

“I won’t keep you, then,” she said. “But you will call?”

“Yes. I will. Of course I will,” Rumple assured her before looking back down at Benji. “Alright, are you ready?”

“Yes!”

“Well, so am I,” Rumple replied. He gave Belle one last look of gratitude before bowing his head slightly. “Goodbye, Belle.”

“Bye,” she murmured. 

She waited until he’d left the hotel with his children in tow before tearing her gaze away from the door, and though she began walking towards Matthew, a part of her wished that her phone would buzz in her coat pocket before she got to him. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Will you just do it?”

Rumple closed his eyes and clicked his phone shut for the fifth time, causing Ursula to lean her head back against the armchair she was sitting in. 

“What exactly is the hold-up? You want to call her. Just do it now and get it over with.”

Most of the time, Rumple liked Ursula’s company. She was pragmatic and clever and kinder than she let on. Besides, it was nice having her and Cruella across the hall when the children needed watching. Lily had made unwitting parents out of the pair of them, and though they both carried around the same pride and vanity that had kept them inhaling dragon’s egg dust for thirty years, there was a settledness about them that hadn’t existed before. 

It had bothered Rumple when he’d first come to them for help three years ago; what right did they have to be content just when he needed them not to be? Now, he knew the same change had come over him. He could hardly bear to think of the man he’d been: so twisted up with darkness that the woman he loved had tried to make it so she never had to see him again.

Now he’d gone and ruined even that for her. Whatever she said, he’d seen her face when she first noticed him, and it had borne the look of someone who wanted to run as far away as she could and never turn back. He hadn’t realized it then; he’d been so eager to think that she’d come for his sake...but recalling it now, it was clear as anything. She’d asked him to call out of pity and nothing more.

Cutting through Rumple’s stubborn silence, Ursula said: 

“If you sit on things, they only get bigger.” 

“I’m surprised you’d take that view of the situation,” Rumple retorted. “It’s been how many years since you’ve learned where Maleficent ended up? Any plans to tell Lily?”

But Ursula didn’t play such games. Her expression unchanging, she sat forward in her chair. 

“We aren’t talking about that. We’re talking about why you won’t just dial the damn number to talk to a woman who is waiting for you to call.”

Rumple, though all the children were asleep, still twitched at Ursula’s cursing. He hadn’t even meant to tell her about Belle, but she’d spotted something wrong the second she saw him, and Rumple had never been strong under questioning.

“You don’t have forever,” said Ursula. 

“Thank you for the reminder.” 

He opened his phone again before looking up at Ursula expectantly. 

“What?” she said, pretending to not understand. But Rumple’s stare didn’t waver, and eventually she stood up. “Fine. I’ll go home. But you’d better do it as soon as I shut the door.” 

As much as he wished he could, Rumple remained staring at his phone long after Ursula left, feeling more panicked by every minute passing. It was already eight thirty, and if he didn’t do it soon, he’d have to wait until tomorrow. The fear of trying to sleep with his stomach in knots might have been enough to have him clicking the “call” button, had he not spotted Josie peeking her head into the room. 

“What’s the matter?” asked Rumple, though the same thing happened about three times a week. At five years old, Josie could just barely remember her birth parents. However, unlike her older sister, her memories of her old life and removal to foster care weren’t something she could fully grasp and make coherent. All they did was confuse and unsettle her, especially in those quiet, dark moments before sleep. 

“My heart’s going fast,” Josie said, placing one hand on her chest and stepping into the room. 

“Let me see.” Rumple held out a hand, which Josie took and placed in the same spot her own hand had been. Sure enough, her heart was thudding like it was ready to come out of her chest. Nerves, the doctor had said. Nevertheless, Rumple always counted the beats to make sure they were steady and no faster than usual. Besides, it made Josie feel better, to know that if something was wrong, her papa would notice and make it right again.

“It’s running along, isn’t it?” he said, giving her a encouraging grin. Her mouth moved up in response, though it would take more than that for the smile to reach her eyes. 

“Can I sit with you?” she asked, and Rumple nodded. 

“You want an ice pop?”

She did, of course. They were her special treat, hidden in the back of the freezer where only Rumple could reach them, and only to be eaten for the purpose of calming overly excited hearts. Josie’s favorites were grape, probably because they were purple. But the kind didn’t matter much; they worked like a charm, every single time. And every single time, it made Rumple happier than he had once believed he could ever be again. 

The first year after Rumple left Storybrooke had been a fight for his soul, one he’d been in great danger of losing many times. But from the moment Belle had forced him over the town line, there’d been no more room for complacency or pretending. A man even she couldn’t love anymore wasn’t a man worthy of existence. Rumple was afraid of death, and so there was only one other choice: to change.  Every single day, he’d woken up not sure if he could continue, but knowing nothing but a hellish existence was waiting for him if he gave up. 

Not having magic made it easier, but not easy enough. It had been Ursula who suggested seeing a professional, which Rumple resisted until the life he was living became too much. He couldn’t so much as sleep without nightmares and fits of anxiety, and there was no magic in New York to catch him where sleep failed. So there’d been no choice but to see someone, and then to see them again and again and again. 

Eventually, he was seeing someone else, too, and they were giving him pills to take every day. It wasn’t just dark magic that was twisting him up inside...it was other things, too. Things he could fix, things he could come to terms with. That had been the key. From that moment, it had been easier.

Then one day, he’d looked up and realized that life wasn’t a fight anymore. A struggle some days, perhaps. But secured. The trouble was, he lived it alone, with no family to speak of, and the absence of that became unbearable after a time. So much so that he’d nearly tried to contact Belle more than once, always pulling back at the last moment. That chance had passed him by, and if he wanted a family, he’d have to try something else.

“Something else” happened to be the three siblings he’d first seen as a grainy picture on a list of children waiting to be fostered in the area. Even after beginning the process of foster parenting, Rumple had approached the idea of raising another child with caution. No other child would ever be his Baelfire. 

However, from the moment he saw Meg, Josie, and Benji, he knew they could be something to him. And they had been, Rumple reflected as Josie settled down next to him on the couch, reaching out her hand for the ice pop he’d carried over for her. He couldn’t quite say how it happened or why, but he loved them, and they were his. 

“Are you feeling better?”

Josie nodded, looking quite content. Rumple envied her, for he still had plenty to worry about. Then, an idea came to him.

“Josie? Would you mind helping me be brave for a minute?”

This stopped Josie in her ice pop-eating tracks. Like many shy and diminutive children, Josie valued being called brave above anything else. 

“What do I have to do?” she asked, an anxious note in her voice. 

“Oh, nothing too bad. It’s just I have to make a phone call, and I’m feeling a little shy about it, so I was hoping you could sit here with me while I did it.”

As she was already sitting and settled in with her treat, this was a perfect plan in Josie’s eyes. 

“Okay.” 

Rumple held out his hand, and Josie grasped it without hesitation. In another moment, Belle’s line was ringing. 

“Hello?”

At the sound of her voice, all the words Rumple had spent hours carefully preparing left his mind, and it seemed as though he might never be able to speak a coherent thought again. Then again, he’d felt the same way yesterday when he’d seen Belle, and somehow he’d managed to say something of value. It was just a matter of paving the way so the things he wanted to say could come back. He started with taking a breath and squeezing Josie’s hand. 

“Belle? It’s me.”


	3. Chapter 3

“I don’t know what to say.”

The acceptance packet Matthew had handed Belle just moments before seemed almost underwhelming after months of preparation. Then she caught her name on the first page, and the change her life was about to undergo came into full focus.

“Well, we’re all hoping you say you’ll be joining us in the fall,” Matthew said, smiling from across his desk.

“But isn’t it...early for acceptance letters to go out?” Belle was reluctant to ask the question. She liked Matthew very much, and the last thing she wanted to do was accuse him of anything untoward. To her surprise, Matthew nodded. 

“It’s unorthodox, but I’ve pulled a few strings,” he said. “Don’t worry; applications are closed, so you’ve not taken anyone’s spot. I just thought it would be nice to see your reaction in person.” 

“Okay...wow.” Belle tried to manage a smile, hoping her reaction hadn’t been a disappointment.

“You don’t have to answer right away, of course,” Matthew said, perhaps sensing some of her discomfort. “It’s a big decision.”

“It is,” Belle agreed, too loudly. She winced. “Thank you, Matthew. For everything.”

“It was my pleasure. This university would be better for having you, Belle. Though I’m sure that’s been true wherever you’ve gone.”

Belle knew she was imagining the knowing look in Matthew’s eye as he said it, but it didn’t matter. He’d already taken her back to the day she’d decided to let go of the person she loved more than anything in the world because of his descent into darkness. It seemed that letting Rumple go was all it taken for him to find himself again. 

“Well, I don’t know about that…”

Matthew shook his head, and Belle again felt an uneasy sensation of being read like a book. “I do.”

Belle looked back down at her letter, worried she’d revealed too much. Matthew was kind and easy to talk to, but he was still only an acquaintance. Nevertheless, he cleared his throat and said: 

“It’s probably none of my business, but whatever you’re thinking about, whatever’s made you go back to some far off place? Memories are tricky...don’t trust them. Trust now.” 

Somehow, knowing Matthew knew exactly where her mind had gone made it easier to accept. Besides, it was advice Belle knew she needed. If she was to get through her meeting with Rumple that afternoon, there was no room for self-doubt. She could revisit the past, but she couldn’t slip back into the insecurities she’d tried so hard to abandon there. 

“Thank you. I’ll try.”

 

* * *

Rumple’s apartment was smaller than Belle had imagined it would be. Then again, she supposed she’d always imagine him under high ceilings, in spacious rooms. In his castle, the halls used to echo with the emptiness, no matter how many artifacts piled up in the cabinets.  Here, even with the three children at the neighbors’, everything felt lived in and snug. Each time she moved, the armchair she was sitting in squeaked, which didn’t seem the help the nervous twitching of Rumple’s fingers as they sat in silence, having run out of pleasantries. 

“So,” Belle finally said. “You said you had things to tell me.”

“Did I?” Rumple looked quite alarmed, and for a moment Belle regretted bringing up the words he’d said with such hope when he’d first seen her. Still, Belle wanted to know what he’d meant. In spite of herself, she’d often imagined what it would be like to speak to Rumple with a clear head about what had happened and where they might go next. 

“Yes,” she said, trying to ignore how pale Rumple’s face had gotten. In fact, she became so intent on avoiding his gaze that she nearly jumped when he finally spoke. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, and when Belle met his eyes she was amazed at how his nerves had seemingly vanished. “I took advantage of your trust. Of your love. I took the best parts of you and used them to help me acquire things that didn’t matter. Not even to me.”

Belle didn’t want to fight with him. It was a technicality, a changed perspective after years of reflection...and yet Rumple’s dismissal of the very thing that had torn their marriage apart angered her, and she asked in shaking voice: 

“The hat didn’t matter?”

Rumple knew what she was getting at, she could see it in his eyes. He looked down at his hands before speaking. 

“The hat was a way for me to pretend I had control. After Bae died, I didn’t feel like I could hold on to anything ever again. I’d thought, if I did the right thing, if I pushed against the darkness, I could at least keep him safe. But I failed, so there had to be some other way. And the hat was there...just collecting dust.”

She could feel him hiding, hedging his words...for what? He’d already lost her, and he wouldn’t find her again by telling himself what had happened was a charade gone wrong. 

“But you knew what you were doing wasn’t right, or else you’d have told me. It’s not like it was a mistake.”

Rumple closed his eyes momentarily, and Belle could nearly hear him trying to sort out his thoughts again after she’d unsettled them.

“No, it wasn’t,” he finally said, looking straight at her. “I made the decision, many times, to lie to myself and to you. I told myself that the darkness had lost after what happened with Pan, so whatever I was doing was my own choice, the right choice. Even if the means were dark...the ends would be worth it.”

Belle could hardly believe that anyone could have convinced themselves of such a lie, but the careful note in Rumple’s voice was gone, and she knew he was telling her as much of the truth as he could summon at the moment. 

“But the darkness doesn’t leave all at once. It must be seen for what it is, every day,” he continued, and Belle could hear his voice threatening to break. “And I didn’t want to do that. I was tired. I wanted to be married, and I wanted to be free, and I didn’t want to notice how the darkness was poisoning the things I loved most.” 

It should have been enough for her, Belle knew that. And yet the words did nothing to assuage the jealousy and loss she’d felt upon uncovering Rumple’s real dagger. The feelings had lain dormant for years, and yet Belle knew they wouldn’t truly disappear until Rumple named his power for what it was: a usurper. 

“It didn’t just poison them,” she insisted. “It replaced them. You may have told yourself you were doing it for me or for your freedom, but the gauntlet led me to the dagger.”

The words fell at Rumple’s feet with a thud, and Belle wasn’t sure if it was her or Rumple who was more astounded by their weight. 

“It isn’t that simple,” Rumple said. “I-”

“-if you love your power more than anything, that means everything else comes second,” Belle said, feeling breathless, as though she’d said much more than she had. But Rumple only shook his head. 

“You can’t love power. Not truly. You can need it, crave it, depend on it...but you can’t love it. The gauntlet would never have led me to you. Real love is strength, not weakness.  _ Our _ love was strength.” 

Belle knew in an instant that was one of the things he’d been wanting to say. She looked down at the carpet, feeling her eyes fill with tears. 

“I’m mincing terms, perhaps,” Rumple said quietly. “And what matters is that my power became more important than anything else. I understand that. But it’s taken me some time to separate what I want from what I’m afraid to be without, and I know--I  _ know _ \--that I only ever wanted a life with you. I loved...I still love...you.”

At the first sign of a sob in his voice, Belle looked up at him again. Despite the tears in his eyes, he seemed relieved, somehow. He’d told her the truth, inconvenient as it might be, and she hadn’t run.  

“I’m so sorry,” he continued. “When we were married, the things I said...I meant for them to be true. I just didn’t do enough to make them true.”

Much like her acceptance letter, Belle was finding the conversation overwhelming, despite the fact that she’d run over every possible scenario in her head dozens of times. The one where he tried to convince her to love him again. The one where he was dead set on regaining his power. The one where he was broken and lost, having never regained any of what had been taken from him. The one where he said everything she’d ever wanted him to say, understood everything she wanted him to understand. 

But this one, the one where he was honest and sincere and desperate to say the truth as he understood it...she didn’t know if she could find a way through it. Not today. 

“You seem like you’ve found your way, now,” she said, trying to pull away from the feeling of loss that was now coming not from her, but from Rumple. The loss had been his own fault, perhaps, but knowing that couldn’t possibly make it easier for him to accept. Belle couldn’t bear it, not with her own pain also in the mix. She didn’t blame him; he’d done only what she had asked, answered only the questions she’d pressed him to answer. It wasn’t his fault that the answers only highlighted what they had both lost. 

The terse note in her voice caused Rumple to give a self-conscious nod of his head. He knew she was putting his words to the side, the words he’d spent years wishing he could give voice to. He didn’t argue, only took a shaking breath. 

“Well, I’m on a path to it,” he said, and Belle could sense him trying to find a way back to a time before he’d laid bare his soul and had it summarily ignored. “And you’re in New York. Finally seeing the world?”

He attempted a smile, and Belle did her best to return the gesture. 

“Not exactly...I’ve just been accepted to a comparative literature program, and I was visiting the campus.”

“Ah,” Rumple murmured. He looked down at his hands before speaking, his voice strung tight with anxiety. “I hope my being here doesn’t...you don’t have to worry about keeping me away. You have your own life now, and I--” 

But just then, a timid knock came from the door. Rumple gave a knowing sigh and stood up.

“Josie,” he explained. Sure enough, the door opened to reveal a little girl clutching a piece of paper in one hand and a box of crayons in the other. 

Josie was small, not much taller than her little brother, and she appeared to have a fondness for purple. Her jacket, shoes, and the hair tie in her messy braid were all colored the same shade of violet. Her eyes widened when she saw Belle, though her gaze snapped back to her father almost immediately. 

“What is it?” Rumple asked, even as he moved to let Josie into the apartment. But Josie refused to answer, still clearly nervous about Belle’s presence. 

“It’s getting dark outside, isn’t it?” Rumple said, placing his hand on her head and brushing  back the wisps of hair that had come free during the day’s activities. “This is Belle. You remember her from the phone, don’t you?” 

“Hi, Josie,” Belle said, hoping that addressing the child wouldn’t make it worse. Thankfully, though Josie didn’t answer her, she did look up at Rumple and say, very quietly:

“I made this.” She pushed the paper into Rumple’s hand. He gave it a thorough looking over, despite the fact that Belle had seen perhaps half a dozen nearly identical pictures all over the house.

“You’ve used almost every color, haven’t you? That’s lovely.”

Josie pulled her braid over her shoulder and tugged on it, her eyes drifting over to Belle for an instant before dropping back to the floor.

“You can show her, too,” she said to her shoes. Rumple gave Belle a knowing grin.

“She likes you,” he said. “There are some days she doesn’t want her own sister to see what she’s been drawing.”  

Sure enough, the picture was the same colorful squares, circles, and tentative triangles that covered the apartment already. But it only took a smile and a “how beautiful,” from Belle to have Josie bouncing on her heels in excitement. 

Just as Belle was handing the picture back to Josie, who finally felt bold enough to approach her, another knock came through the door, and soon enough Benji and Meg were in the apartment as well. Rumple gave Belle an apologetic look.

“I told you I’d come get you for dinner.” Belle could hear Rumple trying to keep his frustration hidden from his children. 

“Benji just missed Josie,” Meg said. If that were true, Benji had a funny way of showing it, for he immediately ran over to Josie and tried to snatch the crayons from her hand. 

“Josie took the colors!!”

“There are two boxes, Benji!” Josie shouted, her diminutive temperament suddenly disappearing as she pushed her brother’s hands out of the way.

“I like  _ that _ one!” 

As the room threatened to descend into madness, Belle watched Rumple take the second crayon box from Meg’s hands and then beckon Josie to hand hers over as well. Benji cried out as the crayons flew beyond his reach, but Rumple knelt down a moment after, setting his cane down so he could hold one box of crayons in each hand.

“Now, which is the one you want, son?”

Faced with two identical boxes, Benji huffed for only a second longer before reaching for the box in Rumple’s right hand.

“I like this one.”

Rumple gave a sigh of relief and handed the other one back to Josie before standing up. He smiled at Belle, who stood up as well, wincing as the armchair gave one last, loud squeak. 

“I should, uh...I should go,” she said, and though Rumple’s face fell, he nodded. He followed her to the door, and after he’d opened it, they both lingered in the doorway, unsure of where things would go after what had just transpired. 

“I’m sorry--”

“No, don’t apologize,” Belle said. “They’re your children.”

She could see Rumple consider his next words, and when he spoke them she could hear a tremor of fear running straight through them. 

“You’re welcome to stay.”

Belle closed her eyes. If she thought saying yes could help either of them, she would have in an instant. 

“I know,” she whispered. “I just need some time.”

“Of course,” Rumple said, though Belle knew he’d let a part of himself--however small--believe that perhaps she wanted to stay. She wished she could explain it to him, but it would have taken too much time, and he had children to tend to. Instead, she smiled and tried to look cheerful. 

“But I have your number now, so I’m fully equipped to start bothering you again.” 

Rumple cracked a smile, to Belle’s relief.

“You’re always welcome to,” he replied, with such earnestness Belle felt her breath hitch in her throat. Without thinking, she wrapped him into a hug, hoping  perhaps that would make up for all the words she couldn’t say. Rumple’s gasp as she embraced him took only an instant to turn into a sob, and he held her so tightly Belle thought they might never come free again. And if that was all they ever had to be, all they ever had to do, she wouldn’t mind it. 

But, sooner than she was ready for, he let her go, and they were two people, with two different lives and a gulf of loss between them. Still, the action gave Belle the strength to place one final plank onto the bridge between them: 

“I’ll see you again. I know that.” 

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**January**

  
  


_ Rumple-- _

_ I hope you don’t mind; now that I know where you are, it feels wrong to keep all your things here in Storybrooke. I wasn’t sure what to do about the gold...but if it can be said to be anyone’s, it’s yours. You might even find a way to spend it, now. _

_ There’s also some things for the children. I hope that’s alright. You can tell them they’re from Santa, if you’d like. I’m so happy to have met them. They’re sweet as could be, and I’m so glad you have them in your life--and that they have you. No one could love them more.  _

_ I know I left quickly, and I know this isn’t easy. I don’t suppose it will be for a long time, but the hardest part feels over. I’m grateful for that.  _

_ Merry Christmas, _

_ Belle  _   
  


Though it had only been a month, Rumple’s fingers had already worn the margins of the letter down. The box it came in had contained half a dozen ties, several spools of golden thread, Bae’s shawl, and four wrapped presents. Benji loved his boxes of crayons and markers--all labeled with his name--and Josie had worn one of her purple barrettes every day since Christmas. Even Meg--who tended to become sulky around holidays--had devoured the book Belle had given her. 

But it was Rumple’s present that fascinated the children, for Belle had sent him only a chipped tea cup. No amount of explaining the cup’s sentimental value quite got through to the younger ones, who saw only a broken, single cup where a proper gift should have been. But Meg, perhaps, knew a little of what he meant. After Rumple had placed it on the mantle, he caught her eyeing it every so often. 

“Does it cost a lot of money?” she asked one day, still staring at the cup.

“I shouldn’t think so,” Rumple replied. “It’s only valuable to me.”

“Because she gave it to you,” Meg said, nodding her head. 

She was a bright child, and wise beyond her years. She didn’t trust Rumple, not quite yet. Too many adults had let her down. However, Rumple suspected she liked him more than she let on, and he understood her reluctance to share her emotions. It was terrifying, to care for other people, especially when your earliest memories were ones of loss. Rumple had always been one to grab on tighter, but Meg tended to pull away, and--after more than a few sleepless nights wondering if he was the right parent for such a child--Rumple had learned to adjust accordingly. 

“That’s right,” he murmured, hoping against hope that Meg wouldn’t ask any more questions. But she was an inquisitive child, and Rumple had never been very lucky, 

“Is she your girlfriend?”

“No.” 

“Do you want her to be your girlfriend?”

Rumple tried to smile. 

“Now, what would I want with a girlfriend? I think I’m busy enough, don’t you?”

* * *

 

**March**

 

Something hadn’t felt quite right all week. It was as though he hadn’t eaten, or had been shaken awake too early in the morning. He felt lightheaded and woozy, and a sense of nausea and anxiety kept creeping up on him.  Alarmed, he’d called in sick to work, but almost as soon as he did, the symptoms disappeared, only to return the next day. 

Rumple didn’t trust doctors much--he’d done plenty of profiting off of human desperation in his day, but at least it had always come with guaranteed success. However, after a week of feeling out of sorts, Rumple took himself to the clinic. All it got him was a clean bill of health and a suggestion that he rest. Stress, the doctor said. 

But Rumple knew something was wrong. He’d had the same body now for hundreds of years, and he’d put it through the emotional wringer. Stress didn’t feel like this--not all at once. 

Normally, he looked forward to Belle calling, which she did now, regularly. Not very often, only once a week, and there was no telling what they’d talk about. Sometimes, the conversations were unnervingly brief, and Rumple would worry he’d said something wrong, somehow. But then she’d call again, and they speak for hours about nothing. 

She wanted to try and be friends. She’d said that, early on, and if Rumple hadn’t somehow managed to bear life without her for three years, he’d have wondered if he could do it. But she wanted it, and, after all, they’d been friends before. It would be better than anything he could have reasonably hoped for. 

But the difficult part wasn’t over--perhaps it never would be. Every time Rumple thought they’d said all they needed to say about the past, it would come up again, and sometimes the weight of their words threatened to break the fragile relationship they’d only just begun to trust again. Somehow, it never did. 

However, he dreaded what might happen if she found out he was mysteriously ill. She’d feel like she needed to do something--Belle always did--and he didn’t want her to. He might be her friend, but she had a life that needed to be lived, and he was only a small part of it: an hour on the phone here and there, a past that had broken her into pieces she was still trying to put back together. To ask her to worry for him wasn’t fair, but he couldn’t lie to her, either, even if he wanted to. She could tell when something was wrong, and she was long past pretending she couldn’t. 

Sure enough, she heard the quiver in his voice as he said he was fine, and it all spilled out before he could stop himself. He tried to assure her of what the doctor had said, but she only replied: 

“But you don’t think that’s it, do you?”

Rumple didn’t reply. 

“Do you think it has something to do with the curse?” Belle asked, and Rumple nearly dropped the phone. The possibility had crossed his mind only in the quietest, loneliest of moments. It was a shadow of an idea, and Belle speaking it out loud seemed to beckon it forward, bringing it all too close to reality. 

“No, no...how could it?” he insisted. “This is a land without magic.”

“Maybe not as much as we thought. You know what happened with Zelena…”

Rumple had heard of Zelena’s cruel trick, how she’d impersonated Marian and tried to steal her sister’s happiness for a second time. He was fortunate she’d never crossed his path, for she’d been in the very same city, and he’d come dangerously close to seeking out Bae’s old apartment, where she’d been living. Nothing good could have come of that meeting. 

“That was different,” he said, ignoring the shiver that crept up his spine at her name. “It was a different kind of magic. I don’t have power here, Belle. The curse is specific to our world, our magic. That’s why Bae wanted to come here in the first place.”

“Okay,” she said, though Rumple could tell she hadn’t give up her theory.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, hoping the statement wouldn’t prove to be the first lie he’d told her since their reunion. 

* * *

 

**April**

 

If he’d been a more ambitious person, Rumple supposed he could have made any career for himself that he wanted in New York. However, once he landed his position at O’Henry’s Antique Shop, he knew he’d stay there as long as fate allowed. The hours were flexible, the pay was good, and Rumple’s cursed memories had given him a knack for selling things that could only ever collect dust. Best of all, he was generally the only worker there, unless old O’Henry poked his head in during the afternoon, and he appreciated the independence. 

With his new illness, the quiet felt oppressive, and Rumple spent much of the morning willing customers in, seeking any distraction he could from the nagging feeling that something was terribly wrong. Despite all he tried to tell himself, he wasn’t getting better. 

Unfortunately, the answer to his silent cries for company came in the form of the young man who had met Belle at the hotel--Matthew Samson. Rumple could still remember his firm handshake and twinkling eye. Rumple’s shoulders tensed as he came through the door, though Matthew grinned when he saw him. 

“You’re Belle’s friend. From the hotel, at Christmas. It’s a small world after all, isn’t it?” 

He chuckled, but Rumple couldn’t bring himself to so much as smile. Belle had nothing but good things to say about Matthew, which ought to have been enough. It wasn’t his fault that he’d stumbled into one of the more devastating disappointments of Rumple’s life. Nevertheless, Rumple could only feel a twist in his stomach when he saw him, and he prayed his visit would be short. 

“Can I help you?”

“I hope so,” Matthew said, ignoring the terse note in Rumple’s voice. “I made the mistake of asking one of my colleagues in the drama department if they needed any help with their production of  _ Arms and the Man _ , and apparently I’m now the acting props master. That’ll teach me, won’t it?”

He laughed again, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket. “I have a list, here…”

Rumple grabbed for the list, but as soon as he did, a wave of the now familiar dizziness and nausea hit him, and he gripped the counter instead, closing his eyes tight. It was getting worse. He could feel Matthew’s hand on his shoulder. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, as Rumple opened his eyes and shook his head to clear it. 

“Fine,” he murmured, pulling rather roughly away from Matthew. “I just missed lunch, is all.”

He held out his hand for the list, which Matthew gave to him despite looking unconvinced. “I’ll, ah...I’ll look at what we have and then give you a call.”

“Perfect,” Matthew said. “I’ll give you my card--”

Perhaps it was because Rumple’s mind was still foggy, but it seemed that the card was in Matthew’s hand well before it had reached his pocket. However, Matthew didn’t look as though he’d just done a bit of close-up magic--Rumple had been unfortunate enough to have more than one such encounter, and they were always accompanied by a self-satisfied grin at the end. 

No, Matthew looked serious as anything when he handed Rumple the card, and after giving it a cursory glance, Rumple dropped it on the counter as though it had caught fire. 

For all the card said, in big black letters, was “Rumplestiltskin.” 

“What is this?” he hissed.

“Pardon?” Matthew asked, though Rumple didn’t think he was imagining the sudden chill coming from across the counter. But when he looked back down at the card, all he saw was Matthew’s own information. For the briefest moment, he considered the possibility that he was going mad. However, he knew trickery as well as anyone, and the air was suddenly thick with it. 

“Who are you?” he snarled, and could tell from the way the corners of Matthew’s mouth turned up that he knew exactly what he meant by the question. “What do you want?”

“I really think you ought to eat something--” Matthew said. 

“--no, you need to tell me who you are and what you’re doing here.” Rumple gripped his cane tightly, trying to keep himself from saying too much. He was out of practice, and one wrong move could hand Matthew--or whoever he was--the victory he needed. 

“You’d know, if you weren’t so busy hiding,” Matthew said in a low voice, and before Rumple could respond, a couple entered the store. Matthew and Rumple exchanged a glance before Matthew stepped back from the counter, waving the couple over. 

“I’ve been helped,” he said to them before turning to leave. 

“You have a nice day, Mr. Gold,” he called out, and it was all Rumple could do not to chase after him. 

The card never changed back to its original message, and Rumple suspected it wouldn’t again, though he checked it obsessively until the children had all gone to bed. Once he was sure they were asleep, he put on his shoes, hoping that Ursula and Cruella had stayed in. They might not be much help, but they were someone to tell, at least. He could hardly bear to think of what he’d eventually have to tell Belle, or how he would do it.

Just before he opened his apartment door, his phone rang. Belle. For the first time, Rumple let it ring through. He wasn’t ready. Even still, he stayed glued to the spot until his phone dinged with the announcement of a new voicemail. 

“Hi, it’s Belle. Please call me. It’s really important. I think I figured out what’s wrong. It’s not...it’ll be okay, okay? Just call me.” 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Ruby shrugged, stirring the ice in her drink.

“So he has a cold or something...men are babies when it comes to getting sick.”

“No, it’s something else,” Belle said, half-wishing she hadn’t told Ruby about Rumple’s illness. Though Ruby kept her opinions on Rumple to herself, Belle knew she wasn’t overly happy about Belle speaking to him again. “He’s been to the doctor, and all they said was that it’s probably stress. But he’s...well, he’s always like that.”

She gave a half-hearted smile, which Ruby didn’t return.

“You sure you aren’t projecting?” she asked, after a pause. Belle gave a self-conscious look around Granny’s, though they were practically the only people there. The restaurant had closed, and only Granny and a few of the servers remained.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s not a secret that having Gold in your life again has freaked you out,” Ruby said. “And maybe you’re trying to distract from the fact that you aren’t sure where it’s going to go by creating a problem that isn’t real.”

Belle wished she didn’t understand why Ruby would make such a suggestion, but she did. If there was one thing she knew how to do, it was shifting her line of focus just enough to ignore the things she didn’t want to think about.

“Ruby—”

“Am I wrong?” Ruby said. “You’re a problem solver. And this thing with Gold? Your feelings? Not easy to solve.”

“Things are going well,” Belle said, and it was the truth. Her conversations with Rumple, though not always easy, made her feel like there could someday be real understanding between them again. And sometimes, they were easy, easier than she’d ever imagined they could be again. There was something between them that hadn’t been polluted by the past, something they woke up in each other that would come out every so often and put them at ease.

Though she didn’t dare speak it out loud, she knew it was love. Not the stuff of romance novels, though they’d had that too, once. Just a tenderness, a desire to make the other person happy, a delight in the way the other one saw the world. That part had remained intact, and it was what gave Belle hope that they could share their lives with one another again. How that would work, what it would look like, remained fuzzy, and there were possibilities Belle didn’t dare bring into sharper focus.

“For now,” Ruby said, and Belle didn’t press the subject further. She didn’t have time to argue. Whatever fears she might have, she knew Rumple’s sickness was real, and the diagnosis wouldn’t come from a New York doctor.

 

* * *

 

Though it had been several years since Belle had freed the Apprentice from the hat, he’d never given her another name to call him by—though he often came over to Belle’s apartment for tea. He was kind and lonely, and Belle had taken quite a liking to him. He had more wisdom than anyone else in the town, even more than the fairies, and Belle thought of him first when Rumple told her something was wrong. If it had to do with the Dark One’s curse, the Apprentice would know.

As always, he’d been more than happy to come over and “see if he could be of any help.” From the way he’d said it, Belle sensed that he’d already guessed what might be wrong. Then, he’d asked her to bring along the dagger, which Belle had kept hidden for years now. Even when she removed it from its hiding place, she didn’t dare open the box it was kept in. She hadn’t looked at it in years, and the fear of what she might see—or what she might remember—kept her hand firmly on the lid as she and the Apprentice settled down at the tiny table in Belle’s kitchen.

“You brought the dagger?” he said, looking at the box. As his eyes bored holes into it, it occurred to Belle that his intentions might not align with her own. She clutched the box tighter, knowing that she wouldn’t—couldn’t—give it to him.

“...yes,” she said. “But I—”

“—you’re free to keep it in your possession, Belle,” the Apprentice said, with an understanding smile. “I have no desire to hold that power in my hands. But have you looked at it, recently? Taken it out of that box?”

“No,” said Belle, feeling silly.

“Why don’t we start there?”

Belle’s heart nearly stopped when she opened the box, for Rumple’s name was half gone from the dagger.

“He’s dying,” she whispered, looking up at the Apprentice, who shook his head.

“Wait,” he said, gesturing back to the box. Sure enough, Belle watched as every letter but the “R” suddenly reappeared. Then, a few seconds later, the letters began to dissolve again.

“I don’t understand.” Belle traced the constantly changing letters with her fingers, as though that might make them stay put.

“The curse is trying to break off from its host,” the Apprentice said. “Trapped inside a human host, outside of the realm of the magic it so desperately needs, it has been rendered impotent. A curse, like anything that contains life, will do whatever it can to persist. And if Rumplestiltskin cannot help it do that, it will tear itself away from him.”

“Would it...would he live?” Belle asked, her eyes still intent on Rumple’s name.

“Impossible to say,” the Apprentice said. “This has never happened before. No Dark One has ever remained so long in a land without magic, with no plan to ever wield the darkness again. But I do know this: the darkness will take whatever it can when it leaves, and the man Rumplestiltskin was may find himself torn to bits.”

The thought that she had sentenced Rumple to death was too much for Belle, and she shook her head, as though that would change what the Apprentice had said.

“But how could this happen? Blue told him that the curse only existed in our realm, with our magic.”

For years, Belle had told herself that she had done the right thing, that Rumple could only get better if he was no longer tempted by magic. The solution had existed for centuries: how could it be hurting him now?

The Apprentice nodded. “And she was right. But things don’t always remain where they ought to.”

His gave a slight wave of his hand, as if to indicate everything around them. He smiled, but seeing Belle’s face, grew serious and sat forward.

“Belle, do you know what happens when a foreign species of fish is introduced into a lake’s ecosystem? It changes that ecosystem, often destroying entire species and food chains. And the fish itself? Will change as well, sometimes becoming monstrous in size. The dark curse is specific to our realm, and that is why it must stay there. If it breaks away from Rumplestiltskin and is allowed to linger in this world, this world may be irreparably destroyed. I cannot say what it will do, but nothing good can come of such power being set free.”

Belle tried one more time to return to the reality that had existed only a minute ago.

“But Blue told him—told his son—that this is where they ought to go, that it would be alright—”

“—fairies can be trusted only with their own concerns, and those concerns are limited. The Reul Ghorm has no reason to care for what becomes of other lands forced to contend with the Dark One’s power. She wanted him out of her own realm, that’s all.”

For a moment, there was nothing left to say, as Belle finally let this new truth sink in: there wasn’t anywhere Rumple could be free.

“So what do we do?” she finally asked.

“He will have to return to Storybrooke,” the Apprentice said. “The magic here will hold the darkness in its vessel as intended.”

But all Belle could think of was the man that darkness had pushed Rumple into becoming, and the answer seemed to only create another problem.

“And then what?” she said. “What will he do once he’s here?”

“That decision is his to make,” the Apprentice replied. “No one can make it for him. Especially not you, Belle.”

He knew, then. That Belle was already trying to think of what she could do to make things different this time, make them better. She nodded, though her mind’s focus hadn’t shifted.

It was his choice, but she could help. If he let her, she would help.

* * *

 

“Do you understand what you’re asking me to do?”

Rumple’s voice was hard, though Belle could hear the note of panic he was trying to hide. She closed her eyes, wishing she’d come to see him in person to deliver the news. But it had seemed too urgent, and perhaps a part of her was afraid of looking him in the eye and telling him he was doomed.

“I know it would be an adjustment, but—”

“An adjustment? It’s impossible. I-I can’t.”

He was closing himself off, and if she didn’t hurry, he’d have made up his mind before she’d even began.

“Why not?” she asked, knowing the answer but hoping it would provoke him into revealing something she could use to change his mind. Sure enough, she could practically feel Rumple heating up at the question.

“ _Why not_? Where do I begin? The fact that I have a caseworker I have to answer to every thirty days in order to keep the children that have been placed in my care? That the woman who murdered my son is roaming free in that town? Or that the entire reason you forced me out is because I can’t hold that power without being destroyed?”

That was it. He was afraid of becoming the monster the darkness had come so close to creating the last time he was there.

“But you’ve gotten better—”

“Because I’ve not had a choice,” he interrupted, as if he anticipated her answer. Belle shook her head emphatically, despite the fact that he couldn’t see her.

“You did have a choice,” she insisted. “You didn’t have to do any of the things you’ve done. We both know that if you’d wanted, you could have come back here, or hidden yourself away somewhere and given up. And you didn’t.”

She did her best to instill her words with the pride she felt when she thought of what he’d done with his life, how he’d built it back up into something worth living. Something worth protecting. But it didn’t seem to matter, for Rumple only said:

“You’re asking me to do something I can’t do.”

“Rumple, if you don’t—”

“—something terrible will happen. It’s a curse, Belle. That’s its nature,” he said, and Belle could hear the break in his voice. “It took my son from me. Twice, and it didn’t matter what I did or what I meant to happen. It’s never mattered, and it won’t start mattering now.”

“You don’t believe that,” Belle said, softly, feeling suddenly incapable of making Rumple understand.

“No, _you_  don’t,” Rumple retorted. “Because you don’t understand. Or you don’t want to. I will lose myself if I go back.”

 _She_ didn’t understand? Belle felt her cheeks growing hot.

“You’re letting it tear you in two right now, because you’re afraid,” she spat out. “You’re hiding. If you wanted to, you could do it.”

“I’m not hiding from anything,” Rumple said, venom in his words. “You’re the one who sent me away because I was too monstrous for you to look at, and now you’re telling me that I have to pack my bags and come back because you think it’s a good idea? I’ve been sufficiently domesticated? How generous of you.”

Belle opened her mouth to find that her buzzing mind had gone quite silent. She took a breath before saying:

“You’re right. It’s not my problem. It’s yours, and I was foolish enough to think that maybe, now, what I had to say mattered to you. But clearly it still doesn’t. So you go ahead and do whatever you want, Rumple. I hope it works out.”

She could tell Rumple was hardly breathing as she spoke, and she heard his ragged sigh at the end of her speech.

“Belle—”

“No,” she whispered. “Don’t.”

It was all she could do to end the call before bursting into angry, humiliated tears.

 


	6. Chapter 6

“Wait, I’m sorry: you’re dying?” Ursula leaned forward in her chair, her brow knit in dismay, and Rumple’s fingers twitched. Cruella’s gaze was even less forgiving, and Rumple wondered whether he’d made a mistake in coming to them. A suffocating fear of being alone had propelled him to their apartment, but now the quiet seemed preferable. 

“That’s not been confirmed,” he said, placing Matthew’s business card on the table. “But this man, without a doubt, is pretending to be someone he isn’t, and I don’t think I need to explain to you that people who hide their identities are rarely up to anything good.” 

Ursula and Cruella exchanged one of those looks that Rumple could never quite read. He envied their intimacy, sometimes. Despite everything, they understood each other, and if Rumple could have figured out the reason why and bottled it up, he’d do so in an instant. Perhaps then...but thinking of Belle was the reason he’d sought their company. 

“Well, who’s to say why anyone does anything?” Cruella said, attempting a smile. “I’ve never bothered with disguises, and I daresay I’ve never been up to anything good at all!”

She gave a sort of humorless laugh, which Ursula cut off with a wave of her hand. 

“So, Belle told you that if you don’t go back to Storybrooke, you might destroy the entire world, and you want to talk about a man who gave you a card with your name on it and left?”

Rumple tapped the card with his index finger. “This is more important.”

“This?” Ursula ripped the card out from under Rumple’s hand. “Is a business card.”

“I told you, it changed,” Rumple said. “And that man isn’t who he pretends to be. He could be a threat to my family. To Belle.”

“Has it occurred to you that the two things are related, darling?” Cruella took the card from Ursula and traced the edges with her fingers, as though doing so might pull something out of it. “Your...condition, and whatever this Matthew is doing?”

Rumple closed his eyes in frustration. “Of course it has. For all I know, everything Belle was told by the Apprentice is a ruse to cover for whatever he’s doing.”

Again, Ursula and Cruella exchanged a maddeningly long look before Ursula said, quite slowly: 

“So you think someone--you have no idea who--tampered with your dagger, somehow convinced the Apprentice to lie to Belle, and is doing all of this because…?”

“That’s what we need to find out,” Rumple said. 

“Or Belle is right, and Matthew--whoever he is--is trying to help.” 

“If he was trying to help, why didn’t he say so?” Rumple said, trying and failing to keep the snarl out of his voice. “People who want to help don’t sneak about and lie and leave threatening messages--”

“--your name is a threatening message?” Cruella said, a nasty grin playing across her lips. They liked it, the both of them, when he was frustrated. They hadn’t changed, not really. And they thought they were better than him...

“--the way it was given was a threat.”

“He said you’d know who he was if you stopped hiding,” Ursula said. “Maybe...you should go back to Storybrooke.”

“She’s right, darling.” 

For a wild moment, Rumple considered that they were in on it as well. What other reason would they have to insist he do something so futile? They knew as well as he did that going back was impossible. Then again, perhaps they didn’t. They’d come to this world by accident; the people they loved hadn’t forced them out of their homes, out of their lives, as a punishment or precaution. Storybrooke was real only as an idea to them, and at worst they’d be considered nuisances should they ever decide to make their home there. At best, all would be forgiven. 

Rumple would be shown no such mercy, nor could he know for certain if he’d deserve it. If he couldn’t fight the darkness to dignify his own son’s death, he’d never manage it. Not for long. And this time, there’d be no second chance. If the town didn’t destroy him, he’d destroy himself. 

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Oh, I love the word ‘can’t,’” Cruella said. “It covers all manner of sins, doesn’t it?”

“Never mind. You don’t understand.” Rumple knew he sounded petulant, but he wasn’t about to bare his soul to Cruella and Ursula, of all people. As it was, they knew far too much. He’d trusted them because he’d had no one else. And then, suddenly, someone else--the only person he ever really wanted to talk to--had come back. It was only now that he could see how little anyone else cared, how impossible it would be to explain to them what was wrong. 

If Belle wouldn’t listen, they never would. He stood up from the table; if he was going to be alone, better to face it head-on. 

“Oh, are you leaving already? I was so looking forward to hearing about how none of us could hope to be as tortured as you,” Cruella said. But Rumple was too sick at heart to take the bait. 

 

* * *

 

They’d never get to the bus on time. A year and a half, and they’d not been late once (unless you counted birthdays, and Rumple never did). Then again, the power had never gone out in the middle of the night, shutting his alarm off without warning. He awoke to a blinding ray of sunlight coming into his room, and a glance at his clock showed the default, blinking “12:00.”

It was only half an hour’s difference, Rumple’s watch revealed, but he knew there’d be no making it up. Not on a Friday, six weeks out from school ending. To make matters worse, nearly everything in the refrigerator had spoiled, and Benji was already protesting the absence of an egg on his toast. 

“But those are eggs, Papa!” he said, pointing at the box of eggs Rumple had left on the counter. 

“They aren’t good anymore, son.”

“Yes, they are! They aren’t even broken at all,” Benji proclaimed. 

“I’ll get more after work. You can have one after school, alright?” Rumple said, wincing as a sharp pain ran through his head. “Just eat your breakfast.” 

Benji, at least, would have some hope of getting to his preschool on time. It remained to be seen whether he’d arrive in a good mood. Benji was both high strung and clever, and he knew the morning was not progressing as it should (though the why of it all still eluded him). If Rumple didn’t proceed carefully, he’d sulk the rest of the day. 

Against all odds, Benji retreated to the kitchen table and began to eat his toast sans egg, though he didn’t look happy about it. He kept looking back at Rumple and the carton of eggs, and one particularly aggressive turn around knocked his water glass onto Josie’s plate. 

“You ruined it!” Josie cried out, and Benji burst into tears. Rumple felt like doing the same, though instead he went for a towel. His hand shook as he pulled a clean one from the drawer, and it fell to the ground almost as soon as he’d picked it up. It was too blue, Rumple thought. Or maybe the floor was too white. He reached down to pick it up, but his eyes clouded over, and without thinking he cried out in fear. 

The room went silent. Rumple, his vision still out of focus, let himself drop to his knees. For a moment, he felt only a serene sense of inevitability, a willingness to let go. But something else inside of him was clawing its way into the kitchen floor, desperate to anchor itself to anything it could. 

The anchor won, in the end. First, the light came back into the room, then the pain in his knees. Then the sounds of crying, strangely distant, as if from the other side of a door. 

But they were closer than that, Rumple thought, though at that moment he couldn’t quite summon who “they” were. He shook his head, trying to bring the tiles of the floor back into focus. One white square, then a black line, then another square...and so on and so on. There was a scuff mark beside his right hand. And it was Benji crying, not from another room, but just a few feet away. 

Rumple pressed his forehead against the cabinet, knowing there were ways to signal that he was alright, but not remembering any of them. His mind was still rediscovering its own surroundings, and just now had no use for anything else. Meg’s voice was the next thing to come through, shaking but clear. 

“Move, Josie! I have to get the phone!”

He’d always meant to move the phone closer to the ground, so the children could reach it without him taking it down for them. Still, there were other chairs Meg could have taken, had her panic not blinded her. All she could see was the nearest one, and Josie was curled up in it, hiding herself from a world that had become too frightening to bear.

Finally, Rumple could feel himself coming back together, and he sat up straighter, still leaning his shoulder on the cabinets. 

“I’m fine,” he said, hoping his voice would carry over the chaos. “I’m just fine.”

Benji, still weeping, raced over to Rumple the moment he heard his voice. Rumple cradled him tight, hushing his sobs. He’d been hardly more than a baby when he’d first arrived, and he was still a little thing, precious and soft and ever trusting. To Benji, Rumple was his father--nothing more or less. 

“It’s alright, now,” he whispered, eyeing Meg with a smile. She came to sit next to him, and to his surprise, she nestled her head against his arm. 

“I’m fine,” he said to her, and she nodded, pressing herself tighter against him. 

Josie, however, didn’t so much as peek out from the ball she’d curled into, and seeing her so petrified with fear broke Rumple’s heart. Who would have come to unfurl her, had he not woken up? 

He moved Benji off of his lap before laboring to get back on his feet. Meg handed him his cane, and he gripped it unsteadily before finally letting go of the countertop and putting his weight on it. He knelt beside Josie’s chair and placed a hesitant hand on her back. 

“Josie?  I’m right here.”

At the sound of his voice, Josie burst into tears. It only took a few coaxing phrases from Rumple to get her down from the chair and into his arms, where she clung about his neck so tightly he almost fell back to the ground. 

“That was so scary!” she said, as Rumple ran a hand over her hair.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I’m going to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

He knew what it meant, what he’d have to do, but it suddenly didn’t matter one bit. He couldn’t let them watch him die. He wouldn’t.

“I promise.”

* * *

 

Had it been up to Rumple, none of the children would have gone to school. However, Meg had been saving up her allowance for weeks to buy something at her school’s book fair, and Rumple knew she’d be more hurt to miss it. Though Josie and Benji were more than happy to stay home, Rumple saw to it that Meg made it to school well before her class trip to the library. 

The house was quiet all day, which Rumple might have appreciated more if it hadn’t been occasioned by such a frightful event. Still, he managed to make an appointment to talk with his case worker on the practicalities of taking the children on a vacation over the summer. When he said it out loud, it sounded like nothing at all. As he wrote the appointment down on the notepad next to the phone, something in his stomach untangled. 

He would go, and he would find a way to make everything right again. For them. 

Feeling better than he had in weeks, Rumple took Josie and Benji out to replenish their refrigerator. Once out and about, the joy came back into their eyes, and Rumple was almost happy to see them touching things they weren’t supposed to in the grocery store. They were even able to convince him to get a special dessert: four chocolate cupcakes. To Rumple’s eye, the treats were small and too expensive. But the pretty pastel frosting made Josie bounce on her toes, and so there was nothing to do but buy them. 

Meg came home eager to show Rumple what she’d purchased. He grinned knowingly when he saw the cover.

“It’s one of those treehouse books, isn’t it? Where do they go in this one? The Amazon?”

“No, I have that one!” Meg said, as though Rumple ought to remember each of the two dozen Magic Treehouse titles he’d already bought her. “This one’s about China, but not like the other one I have. This is a Merlin Missions one.”

Rumple’s heart jumped into his throat. “What did you say?”

“It’s a Merlin Missions one. They’re for bigger kids, so now I can read them. Ms. Weizmann said so!” 

“That’s...that’s good,” he murmured. As Meg pranced off to show Josie the book, Rumple fumbled in his pocket for the business card he’d nearly forgotten about in the day’s excitement.

However, no amount of turning out his pockets did any good, for the card had vanished. 


	7. Chapter 7

“Where is it?” Belle whispered, bending down to look under the tiny table for the third time. The children’s section of the library was one of her proudest accomplishments, but it added no small amount of work. Some parents really did think of the library as some sort of baby-sitting service, simply because it had a few bean bag chairs and some puzzles.

Puzzles most parents didn’t bother helping their children clean up, Belle grumbled to herself as she searched for the final piece of a dalmatian puzzle. She was so preoccupied with her search that she hardly registered the door opening.

“Belle?” Regina called out. “I know you’re closed, but I saw the lights on.”

It was all Belle could do to keep from groaning. She’d forgotten to finish her budget for the next fiscal year. Regina had long ago ceased to be evil, but she was a queen through and through, and that was nearly as frightening, at times. Thankfully, after months of scrutiny, Regina had decided she liked Belle. Even more surprisingly, Belle had decided she liked Regina. Though the two might never be friends, they were at least friendly with one another.

Nevertheless, Belle wasn’t looking forward to explaining why she was spending her time looking for puzzle pieces when she had tens of thousands of dollars to budget. She put on a smile and attempted to crawl out from under the minute table with grace.

“Regina, hi!” she said, feeling her left heel slip off her foot. “I’m sorry, I haven’t gotten around to sending my budget over...it’s nearly done.”

“As long as it’s in by next week,” Regina said, graciously averting her gaze as Belle fumbled her way to her feet. “Actually, I’m here because I need your advice.”

“On what?” Belle asked. It wasn’t like Regina to come to her for advice. For help, perhaps. But never advice. She had her family for that.

“Gold called me this morning,” Regina said. “I’m sure he’s told you: he wants to come back to town. Apparently he’s worried that if he shows up without telling me, he’ll be greeted with a fireball to the face.”

“He didn’t tell me,” Belle murmured, regretting the words even as she said them. Admitting her ignorance to Regina felt like an admission of weakness, of insufficiency. Rumple had told Regina he was coming home before he told her. Perhaps he’d never planned to tell her at all.

“No?” Regina looked surprised, then sorry. “Well, perhaps he’s waiting for my permission before he says anything to you.”

Belle nodded, though she suspected neither of them believed that. Rumple hadn’t told her because he was afraid. Maybe even angry. If he reached out, Belle knew she’d forgive him. He’d been frightened, and she didn’t blame him. She’d even taken to looking for answers to his problem, should he ever come to her for help. But he needed to come to her. She couldn’t--wouldn’t--chase him.

“At any rate,” Regina continued. “I wanted to ask your opinion. You’re the only one who’s seen him recently; can we trust him?”

“He needs to come back to town,” Belle said, knowing that wasn’t quite an answer to Regina’s question. “Terrible things could happen if he doesn’t.”

“He told me that much,” Regina said. “Considering the consequences, I’m more than happy to let him back into Storybrooke. But under what terms?”

Belle frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“You have his dagger.” Regina looked guilty as she said it, but her voice didn’t waver. “If need be, we could--”

“--lock him up?”

“I didn’t say that,” Regina said, though her eyes flickered to the ground to avoid Belle’s gaze. “But it’s my job to make sure this town is safe, and Rumple has been a threat before.”

“So have you,” Belle said, softly. “So has your sister. You’re right: I have the dagger. If I have to, I’ll use it. You know that. But he has children, Regina. A whole life. And I won’t take that from him because you’re afraid.”

Regina considered her, lips pursed, before responding.

“Fair enough. I’m not against second chances. Or third or fourth ones, for that matter. I just hope it doesn’t come to…” Regina’s voice trailed off, and she gave Belle a sad sort of smile. “I know how difficult it was for you, to send him away.”

“Yeah,” Belle whispered, wishing Regina would leave now that she’d gotten her answer. Her sympathy came too late. Years too late.

Regina, sensing her discomfort, tactfully made her goodbyes, leaving Belle alone in a library that suddenly seemed too big and too cold.

Damn it, she wanted to call him. She was tired of waiting, tired of wondering. Anyway, he’d be back in town soon enough. She’d see him then. What could it hurt, to try and make amends before he showed up? He’d done the right thing, after all.

But just as she reached for her cell phone, the front door flung open again, this time revealing Nova, carrying a scroll and looking breathless.

“Belle!” she exclaimed. “I’m so glad I caught you.”

“Is everything alright?” Belle asked, approaching Nova and eyeing the scroll in her hand. She’d mentioned her search for information on the Dark One to Nova in passing just a few days before. Rumple had always hated the fairies--for reasons Belle respected--but Belle knew enough about their history and lore to know they also contained the wisdom of the ages in their minds and in their books. Nova was sweet and eager to help, and Belle didn’t see any harm in asking.

“Yes!” Nova said after catching her breath. “Well...maybe. I’m not sure. It’s just...I was thinking about what you told me: about how there isn’t anything about the Dark Ones that came over with the curse. One _or_ two!”

She laughed, but seeing Belle wasn’t interested in anything but the scroll, cleared her throat and held it out to her.

“Anyway, I was looking in our library at the convent, and I found this.”

Belle snatched it from Nova as though it was rightfully hers, and perhaps it was, for it seemed to buzz as she clutched it in her hands. She unfurled it and let her eyes peruse the faded text. It wasn’t much, only a line or two, and Belle recognized the language as one used by the fairies long ago.

“I’m not sure what it says,” Nova admitted. “I should know it, it’s a fairy language, but it’s old, and I was never any good with things like that. But Blue said it was important, to take it to you straight away. I don’t know if you can read it--”

“--I can,” Belle said. “It’ll take some time to translate, but I can do it. Did Blue say anything about what it said?”

“I know it’s a prophecy. She wouldn’t say of what.”

“Thank you, Nova,” Belle said, tearing her eyes away from the parchment and smiling at her. “I’ll look into it.”

* * *

  _"When the Dark One finds Eternal Love at the Sun's brightest set where time stops, the path will appear to where the darkness shall rest.”_

Belle stared at the words she’d written until they began to blur. She’d had stayed up half the night trying to find another translation, any other translation, but it was no use. Fairy languages were simple, at least to those open to understanding them. They spoke in metaphors. And sunsets only meant one thing. Death.

Deep down, Belle had held onto the hope that Regina hadn’t lied to her, all those years ago. That if something could change, between her and Rumple, she still could--but she shook her head. It was silly. Impossible. She had her answer, now.

_Eternal love_...even if she could give it to him, he’d have to wait until she was dead to be free. What’s more, he’d be trapped in Storybrooke for decades, forced to fight his own darkness in a town where nearly everyone despised him. He’d earned a second chance, and yet this paper said he hadn’t done enough.

Perhaps he could never do enough. After all, the prophecy didn’t say which Dark One was meant to fulfill the prophecy.

If Rumple couldn’t find eternal love, how could it be him?


	8. Chapter 8

If he didn’t do it first thing, Rumple knew he’d never work up the nerve. He parked the car across the street from the library and looked at his children through the rear view mirror.

“That’s where Belle works. The one with the big clock. I thought we’d say hello before we get too busy unpacking.”

The children didn’t argue. They’d been curiously subdued on the drive over to Storybrooke, as though they sensed the importance of the trip. The town itself had begun to excite them, for it was as unlike New York as anything they’d ever seen. However, a hush came over the car when Rumple mentioned Belle. Children understood such things. 

The library’s exterior--outside of some fresh paint and a new sign--looked much the same. The inside, however, was almost unrecognizable. More lighting, a new carpet...even a few computers that looked like they might have been made in the last decade. 

Perhaps most importantly, the building was filled with people. Belle had managed it, and Rumple knew she’d likely managed most of it all on her own. No one else cared the way she did, but she’d done it anyway. Rumple had never regretted their estrangement more, for he should have been the first one to tell her how beautifully her work had paid off. 

He spotted Belle at the checkout desk almost the same moment her eyes crossed over to him. She didn’t look happy to see him--of course she wouldn’t--but there wasn’t any avoiding each other now. Rumple approached the desk with the children in tow. 

“This place looks wonderful,” he said, by way of introduction, but Belle’s expression didn’t change. 

“Regina told me you were coming,” she said, her tone short. “I thought you might call, but…”

She looked down at the stamp pad next to her and wiggled the stamp handle. 

“It seemed better to wait,” Rumple said weakly. 

“Better for who?” Belle looked up at him with a fierce gaze before glancing just past his left shoulder. “I’m sorry, I have people to help.”

Rumple nodded, his face hot. He turned to go, but Meg, after a quick glance up at Rumple, said:  

“Hi, Belle!” She gave one of her winning grins, and Belle’s eyes softened. 

“Hi, Meg.” Belle looked over the counter to get a better look at them. “And Josie and Benji, of course.”

Josie went on her toes in excitement. “Hi,” she whispered, half to Rumple’s left pocket. Belle gave a charmed laugh. 

“You know, I could get you all library cards. That way, if you find a book you like, you can take it home with you.” Belle glanced at Rumple. “Or wherever you’re--?”

“--I thought we’d stay in the house,’” Rumple said. “I, uh...still have the key.”

“You can finally use some of those rooms,” Belle said, with a smile that was finally for him. “Here...I’ll let them look and see what cards they want...we have some new designs I ordered for the schools.”

Belle rummaged through one of the drawers behind her desk and pulled out a stack of cards for the children to pick from. As they rifled through the pile of colorful cards, Rumple steeled himself--the children had won him a chance, but he was the one who’d have to take it. 

“Belle--”

“--it’s fine,” she said, not looking at him.

“No, it isn’t,” he insisted, stepping closer to the counter. He had a vague sense that people were looking, now. Noticing, for the first time, who had walked into the library. “I should have told you I was coming. Apart from anything else, I’ve owed you an apology for the way I reacted when you suggested I come back. I was afraid; some things are never any easier, no matter how much you work at them. But you still have to work at them.  _ I _ still have to work at them.”

His own heart was beating too fast for Rumple to read Belle’s expression, though she never took her eyes off of him for a moment.

“I’m glad you came,” she said, finally. “I thought you would, eventually.”

“Well—as usual—it seems you were correct.” Rumple attempted a smile, and Belle gave a knowing nod. 

“Have you all decided?” she asked, looking back over the counter, where Meg was busy putting the cards back in order. In another minute, Belle had their three selections in hand and went to putting them in the system. 

“So, are you in town for good, then?” she asked, and Rumple’s stomach fluttered at the possibility that he’d managed to get them back to the level of casual conversation. 

“Oh, no,” Rumple said. “No, I’ve gotten permission for the summer, that’s all. Three months should be more than enough time to get things sorted out.”

Belle bit her bottom lip, though Rumple didn’t know whether it was over the library cards or what he’d said. 

“I’ve been asking around, you know,” she said, her voice a bit strained. “Doing some reading. But there’s nothing on this particular problem—obviously, no other Dark One has ever been to land without magic. Not for so long, anyway.”

She handed the children their cards back, and Rumple didn’t think he was imagining how she avoided his gaze. 

“Well, new problems require new solutions,” he suggested. Belle chanced a glance at him and smiled, though something still didn’t seem quite right. 

“Yeah.”

* * *

Rumple closed his eyes; if he didn’t think too much about it, he could manage to go to sleep, even here. He’d half expected some wave of darkness to sweep over him upon crossing the town line, but so far he’d only felt the tickle of a temptation to unpack their suitcases using magic--and he’d wished for that each and every time he traveled with his children. Perhaps things wouldn’t be as difficult as he’d feared. 

“Been a long day, hasn’t it?”

Zoso’s voice came from the far corner of the room. Instantly, Rumple had the childish instinct to simply not open his eyes. Indeed, he squeezed them tighter, turning onto his side and pulling his covers closer.

It’s just in your head, he thought. It’s just your head. 

“Oh, you aren’t going to talk,” Zoso sneered. “That’s fine. I can wait. You’ve taught me patience, Rumplestiltskin, you know that? My whole life, I could never get it right. But you…you finally did it.”

Rumple could feel Zoso’s voice getting closer, and still he kept his eyes shut and his mouth closed. He just needed to sleep, that was all. It would stop if he slept. 

“You know, there’s a rumor—someone knows someone who claims they saw the parchment themselves—that there’s a prophecy written about you,” Zoso continued. “You were supposed to be something special...what was the title again? I can’t remember. Something pretentious and overblown. But then some wires got crossed and you ended up like this instead. I’d believe it, too.”

Zoso’s breath was hot on his face now, as though there were only a couple inches between them. Rumple didn’t even want to breathe. 

“You’re all scattered and scrambled up,” Zoso hissed. “When you’re in my place, I hope you get someone easy.”

“I’m never gonna be in your place,” Rumple snarled, unable to pretend any longer. He opened his eyes, only to find Zoso back in the corner, a hooded figure with skin that shimmered in the darkness. Rumple’s heart thudded in his chest, and he wished he hadn’t given in to his fear. If he’d only been able to ignore him for a moment longer, perhaps...but it was no use, now. 

“You think you’re better than me,” Zoso said with a smile. “Better than all of us. But tell me: what happened when you died out there in the street to save your son? You went to the same place the rest of us do. Right into that vault. Because to whatever’s out there, you’re exactly the same. It’s inside you, and there’s nothing you can do to get it out.”

“You think I don’t know what you’re trying to do?” Rumple whispered, now halfway out of bed. 

Zoso picked up one of the trinkets on the dresser that had been gathering dust and turned it in his hands. “I’d consider you a fool if you didn’t by now, Rumplestiltskin. And you’re not a fool. Just suggestible and weak and selfish.” He set the bauble down to stare at Rumple, who felt himself freezing up again. “In the end, those things are more powerful than knowledge.” 

“Papa?”

Rumple jumped so violently at the sound that Josie took a step backwards and nearly tripped over the blanket she’d been carrying around her shoulders. Covered with purple flowers, the blanket had been on her bed the first day she’d arrived at Rumple’s home, and she refused to sleep without it. 

“I’m sorry!” Rumple slid off the bed and knelt down next to her. He took one of her shaking hands in his own. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Who was talking?” Josie asked.

“I was talking to myself, is all,” Rumple said, though a chill went up his spine as he watched Josie’s eyes trail over to the corner where Zoso had stood.

“I don’t like it here.” Josie looked at him as though he could snap his fingers and send them back to their apartment, no harm done. 

She wasn’t quite wrong, Rumple thought to himself.

“You’ll like it better once you’re used to it, I promise,” Rumple said, smoothing Josie’s hair behind her ears. “Things get easier, after a while. Most things get easier.”

“When?” 

Rumple glanced over to the corner. Zoso was gone. He’d be back, but for now, he was gone. 

“I’m not sure. But they will.” 

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

When Rumple first arrived in Storybrooke, Belle could sense the entire town holding their breath, waiting to see what he might do. What  _ she _ might do, in fact--for most everyone knew under what terms he’d left town three years ago. Belle couldn’t escape the feeling that some of them were disappointed that the two of them were getting along. Storybrooke had long since lost its old penchant for dramatics, and a revival of an old domestic dispute would have provided a welcome stream of gossip. 

They might have felt better had they known how heavy the prophecy weighed on her. 

She couldn’t tell Rumple--he’d never take a fairy’s word for anything, and his desire to prove it wrong might push him to do something rash. Besides, the more Belle considered things, the more she wondered whether the prophecy was of any consequence at all. Fairies could only be trusted with their own concerns, and those concerns were limited...hadn’t that been what the Apprentice told her? Perhaps, after all, a fairy prophecy was just as likely to be misguided. 

However, a fear of being told otherwise kept her from asking the Apprentice for his thoughts. Only after a month had passed without Rumple making any headway did Belle summon up the courage to visit him again. If the prophecy were true, better for at least one of them to know now. What they’d do next, Belle couldn’t say, but the truth had to be a good starting point. 

The Apprentice examined the parchment with a steady hand and an inscrutable expression, giving only the faintest of smiles when Belle asked him if he could read it. 

“Oh, I think I’ll be able to manage,” he said, not looking up from the parchment. 

“Is it true?” Belle asked when he finally looked up. “I mean, does it have to be true? I know you said that fairies aren’t always reliable, and I thought maybe…”

“You hoped for flippancy in this case as well,” the Apprentice said, understanding in his eyes. He set the parchment down on the table and leaned forward. “I’m afraid this is a different matter entirely. A prophecy carries a weight that transcends the foibles of either fairies or men.”

Belle could feel herself growing faint, but the Apprentice pretended not to notice and went to refilling her cup of tea. 

“Now: if you are looking for proof of fairy carelessness, you can see it well enough in the fact that they brought this to your attention,” he continued. “Knowing the future is rarely a gift. But, as I said: fairies are what they are. They don’t understand the weight of human concerns; I’m sure they thought they were being helpful.” 

“So it’s true?” Belle said, staring at her cup blankly. “It has to come true?” 

“Yes.”

“And I understood it correctly?” Belle asked, grasping at the only straw left to her. Thankfully, the Apprentice paused before answering, and Belle felt the slightest twinge of hope. 

“That is another question entirely,” he replied, his voice careful. “And one I do not have the answer to. Best to put it away, Belle. Forget it—it will be true whether you think on it or not.”

Though his answer provided the hope she needed, it still didn't seem enough. The truth was what she’d come for, and now all she had was doubt. 

“But what else could it mean?”

The Apprentice chuckled. “Surely you don’t expect the world to fit in the corners of your imagination, wide as it may be?”

Belle went red, though his levity put her at ease. He wouldn’t laugh if he didn’t believe there might be another answer. 

“May I make a suggestion?” he said. “Pretend you don’t know anything at all. Not just about this...about anything. See the world through new eyes. Just a few minutes at a time—learn what an apple tastes like again, pretend your best friend is a stranger...at the very least, it will be an amusing distraction. And when you get very good at it, the world swings open wide, in ways you could never imagine. Let it.”

Belle couldn’t pretend she knew exactly what he meant by the suggestion, but she nodded anyway.

“I’ll try.”

* * *

 

“Merlin?” Belle exclaimed, setting her wine glass down. “Do you really think so? I mean...have you ever seen him?”

She couldn’t blame Rumple for not telling her earlier--they hadn’t had a true moment alone since he’d arrived back in Storybrooke. Belle enjoyed the children’s company, but they did limit appropriate topics of conversation. Thankfully, Ruby had volunteered to take them for an evening. Whatever she felt about Rumple, she knew what Belle wanted, and that was a chance to truly speak to him. With the Apprentice’s new directive on her mind, she felt more compelled than ever to test the boundaries of their current relationship. What could it be like, if she let it all feel new? 

Now, back in the home that they used to share, Rumple had spared little time in telling her the full story of how he’d come to Storybrooke. 

“No one’s seen him in hundreds of years,” Rumple said. “But I felt sure of it, at least at the time. I'm not sure how." 

“Intuition, you mean?” Belle looked down at her hands, trying to imagine how it could be that Merlin would know who she was, let alone try and use her. 

"I'm sure you've still been accepted. It's a real school, and you sent in a real application. And of course they'd take you," Rumple said softly, misunderstanding her crestfallen expression. 

She didn’t want to ruin the conversation by sulking--it wasn’t Rumple’s fault, after all, and perhaps Merlin had a perfectly good reason for lying. The Apprentice had told her to act as though she knew nothing, and in this case, perhaps she didn’t have to pretend. Nevertheless, being lied to always stung, and Belle couldn’t help but feel slighted. Her whole life, she’d yearned to make bold choices, and no one ever seemed to let her. 

“I just don’t understand why he pretended to be someone else. I’d have helped him-- _you’d_ have helped him.”

“Well, he’s an ancient and powerful being,” Rumple said dryly. “I’m told they tend to have rather eccentric habits.” 

He gave a cautious smile, and Belle shook her head, laughing. 

“Wearing stripes everyday is eccentric,” she said. “Keeping puppets that used to be people is downright strange.”

“But, is it stranger than living with people who used to be puppets?” Rumple asked, now sporting a genuine grin. 

Ever since they’d first begun to warm to each other in the Dark Castle, Belle had delighted in how Rumple’s face lit up when she laughed at one of his jokes. She’d known then how lonely he’d been, for no one tells jokes unless they wish to be understood. He still beamed the same way, even now, and it still made Belle unspeakably happy. 

“Yes! Absolutely. It’s absolutely stranger.” 

Rumple shrugged. “Well, we’ll have to agree to disagree," he teased. 

The conversation trailed off, but at a contented pace. The gap in their dialogue would come and go, and in the meantime they’d bask in their own amusement. After many similar conversations, Belle knew the typical lulls and high points. It was no use pretending she didn’t. 

“I have no idea what I’m going to talk to people at university about…” she finally said. Rumple chuckled. 

“You can’t even explain Granny’s to someone in New York.”

“You like it there, don’t you?” Belle asked the question the moment it crossed her mind. She could guess the answer, but that wouldn’t be in the spirit of the Apprentice’s game. She always thought she understood Rumple, knew exactly what he’d do. Even now, after she’d been proven wrong more than once, she fell back into the same patterns. If the game could accomplish nothing else, perhaps it could stop her from doing it again. 

“I like being settled,” he answered, a tense note in his voice indicating he was keeping something back. “I’m settled, in New York.”

“Could you be settled here again, if you needed to be?”

A forlorn shadow crossed Rumples face, but he only said: “There will be a way to go back.”

“What if there--” Belle began, but Rumple shook his head. 

“I can’t think that way. Your mind can hold a million things at once...I can’t,” he said. “Mine gets spooked with too much possibility.”

Belle nodded, disappointed in herself for asking such a leading question. “You’re not the first person to tell me I think too much.”

Rumple’s eyes went wide. “I didn’t mean--”

“I know.” Belle placed a hand on his knee without thinking anything of it. However, whatever her intentions, something in the room changed. Everything felt burdened with an awareness of what might happen next, if Belle let it. 

Rumple’s eyes held a thinly veiled optimism as he looked from her face to the hand on his knee. If she wanted, she could close the gap between them and kiss him, letting whatever happened next happen. Or she could move away and take another sip of wine. She could tell him about the Apprentice’s game or her job or anything at all. There wasn’t anything stopping her but indecision.

Even as she juggled the question of what to do in her mind, she felt herself leaning forward. 

She tried to do what the Apprentice had told her and forget everything else that had come between them. Pretend it was all new. Let the world open wide. Her eyes darted from Rumple’s lips to his wide eyes, and she drank them both in as though they were unfamiliar. To her surprise, it began to work. Excitement replaced doubt as she moved still closer. 

It wasn’t until she came too close to do anything but close her eyes that the performance fell apart. Some things were too big to forget, and as her lips touched Rumple’s, all she could do was remember. How he’d hurt her, how he’d changed...how they used to come together so perfectly. How she would have to carry around a riddle that foretold his fate and pretend not to care what it might mean. 

As she pulled away, she noticed that Rumple’s eyes were still shut tight; in an instant, Belle knew he was trying to will into existence a magic that had long since missed its cue. Her heart sank, and she nearly kissed him again, just to keep the hope in his face from dying. 

When he finally opened his eyes, he looked more dazed than upset. Rumple didn’t hope often, but when he did it was with everything he had, and it took him a moment to fit reality back into his head. The Apprentice would never have needed to tell Rumple to see the world as new--it was his nature, to try and begin again. 

“Rumple--” Belle murmured, hating herself for not being more careful. She hadn’t let the world open wider; she’d tried to rush both herself and Rumple through a closed window and smashed both their noses in the process. 

“I wanted it to work,” he said, though Belle could hardly believe he’d meant for her to hear. Sometimes she wondered how much of his surroundings Rumple took in; at times he seemed to see everything and more. Other times it was as though nothing truly existed but him. 

“There will be something that works,” Belle said. “You’ll find some way to do it. I know you will.”

Only then did he really look at her and register her presence. His face went red, and Belle could see in his eyes what he wanted to ask--what he'd never actually dare to say. He'd wanted it to work...had she?

It was more complicated than that, she would have said. More complicated that either of them could understand. She'd tried to forget. She'd tried. But what did forgetting do for reality but mask it? 

“I have to get the children,” Rumple muttered, standing up and taking his glass with him.

“I--”

“--it’s like you said." Rumple didn't turn back to face her. "I’ll find something else.”

He didn’t believe it; Belle could hear as much in his voice. The right thing to do was stay, to push him, to find another way together.

Only this time, Belle didn’t have any more faith than he did, and so she let him leave the house without her and slipped out soon after. 

The game had been a failure. 


	10. Chapter 10

Rumple hadn’t sat down at a spinning wheel in years. He still stitched, from time to time, to the amusement of his children, who had never seen “a boy who could sew.” The wheel, however, was a relic of a past that could never belong in New York. But here, with darkness and disappointment lurking around every corner? The wheel was a welcome figure, a capable distraction, and he sat down to work as soon as the children were asleep.

His fingers were just as nimble as they’d always been, but the rhythmic turning of the wheel couldn’t numb his mind. He’d need something much stronger to forget what had happened that day.

It hadn’t even occurred to him until Belle’s lips were on his that this was the opportunity he’d been looking for—what else but True Love’s Kiss could break the spell? He’d scrambled to remember what he’d done before to create the feeling that he was falling apart and being put back together at the same time. All he could remember was _wanting_ —wanting to kiss her, wanting to love her, wanting to be nothing else but whatever she’d seen when she looked up at him with so much tenderness.

So he’d tried wanting—which was more difficult than he’d anticipated. Fear got in the way—fear of rejection, of failure, of foolishness. Still, he’d pushed through it, and for one brief moment he’d almost felt a warm tingling about his fingers. He’d dared to hope, only to open his eyes to a disappointed Belle.

A Belle who’d assured him there’d be something else. Another way to rid him of his darkness. They’d kissed after so many years apart, and still she was thinking, believing, assuring…her mind was set on fixing him.

And all he could feel anymore was the wanting. He could spin all the straw in the world to gold, and it wouldn’t make any difference—he’d feel it still.

He nearly didn’t care when he heard a shifting in the corner of the basement. Zoso, back to gloat.

“So that’s it?” Zoso said from the shadows. “The noble hero is giving up?”

“Isn’t that what you want?” Rumple muttered, half to himself. He’d go away, eventually. He always did.

“I don’t want anything,” Zoso said. “It’s what you want that matters. That’s the only reason I’m here—you wanted to save your son from death. And you did. It wasn’t until you rejected the very thing that had given your son life—given thousands of sons and daughters life—that he died.”

Rumple’s hands left his work, and he turned to look at Zoso, whose smile widened.

“You remember what killed him, don’t you?” Rumple said bitingly. “Bringing you back. Bringing all this back.”

“He’d never have had to if you hadn’t decided to die in the street like a fool, leaving a mess for everyone else to clean up.” Zoso stepped closer, and Rumple flinched in spite of himself. “Desperate souls do desperate things, and you’re the one who made him desperate. You should never have left him behind. After everything you did—”

“—I did what I had to do to save him.”

“And now?” Zoso stood only an arm’s length away and looked down at Rumple, who felt a chill run up his spine. “Will you do what you have to do?”

“There’s nothing to be done.”

“There’s always something to be done,” Zoso said. “And it just so happens, I have what you need.”

“You think I’m gonna listen to you?” Rumple turned away from Zoso and shook his head, as if that would erase the vision. However, the hand that reached out to touch the wheel again was shaking.

“I’m not asking you to. As it so happens, I don’t have anything to offer in the way of advice. All I have…is this.”

Zoso conjured up a scroll of parchment and shoved in Rumple’s still trembling hands. Rumple’s instinct was to drop it as though it were a snake. However, the ink had a glimmer about it that piqued his curiosity, and he read the words:

_When the Dark One finds Eternal Love at the Sun's brightest set where time stops, the path will appear to where the darkness shall rest._

“What is this?” he whispered. “Where did it come from?”

His question was met with silence. Zoso was gone, but the parchment remained in Rumple’s hand. His fingers flickered over the page, but he could find no trace of dark magic—only a translation spell.

Zoso had given it to him to discourage him further, to make him feel his task was impossible. Why else would he have shown up with a paper talking of Eternal Love mere hours after True Love had failed? But Rumple wasn’t about to let him win. Zoso had given him the answer—he just needed to fit the pieces together. His mind began to race with possibilities.

The sun’s brightest set…where time stops…that part was simple. A matter of a few spells—powerful ones, to be sure, but relatively straightforward in their intent. And as for eternal love…he knew exactly where to find that, too. His son was buried not fifteen minutes from there, and Rumple knew his love for Bae hadn’t been dampened one bit by the grave—what could be more eternal than that?

The only trouble would be getting his dagger back from Belle. The spells he wanted to perform would require a stability and sharpness that only the dagger could ensure. If he explained, she’d surely give it to him…but after what had transpired between them Rumple would almost rather abandon the plan entirely than go to her with his troubles. And then, what if she didn’t trust the plan, after all, and refused to give him the dagger? What would he do then?

Rumple’s fingers on his left hand twitched absentmindedly. The dagger was there in an instant, and Rumple stared down at it in shock. Not even a single protection spell…nothing that could keep him out, at any rate. He hadn’t needed to try, hadn’t needed to even think about it.

He’d put it back, he thought to himself. Once he was finished, he’d put it back. Depending on how things worked out, it might not even need to be put back. After centuries of destruction, it might become only a knife, and wouldn’t everyone be better for it?

It was his own property to take, and he wasn’t taking it to cause anyone harm. He’d even tell her, afterwards. How it was almost an accident it had come into his possession, how he hadn’t wanted to bother her, how it was his problem to fix…she’d understand.

* * *

 

Rumple regretted lying to Ruby about why he needed a babysitter—and not just because he knew Ruby would eventually speak to Belle and find out they hadn’t met after all. He’d spent too long trying to live an honest life, and deception had grown to disagree with him. However, the children had to be accounted for if he was to complete his task, so he’d had little alternative.

In the weeks since he’d come back to Storybrooke, Rumple had avoided the graveyard, not wanting to go back until he’d succeeded. He’d made too many promises and pleas to Baelfire—he didn’t want to make any more. As he approached his son’s grave, Rumple knew he’d have no choice but to try his son’s patience one more time—he needed his help, and he could only pray that Bae would give it.

Someone had put flowers on Bae’s grave. More than one person, judging by the different bouquets. Rumple suddenly felt empty handed and selfish, coming to beg for his son’s love with nothing to offer in return. He tried to dismiss the thought—a few peonies wouldn’t have made any difference. He knelt down at the grave stone and closed his eyes.

“Bae…you know why I’m here. To destroy this curse once and for all. Just like you always wanted. But I need your help. I need your strength, your love. I know it’s there, somewhere. It didn’t go anywhere; I believe that. But if you can, send it here. All of it. And together, we can end this. You can end this.”

Rumple fought the tears in his eyes, but he couldn’t help his voice breaking into a sob. “Please, help me.”

He took a few deep, shuddering breaths, and tried to feel Bae’s presence, pick up any sign that he’d heard. Rumple had done it before, dozens upon dozens of times—and never had he felt a single thing. But this time, a warmth settled in his chest, and he was sure of its origins. Bae had heard. He was here; he’d come to help his papa.

Rumple stood up and grasped the dagger tight in his hand, holding it up to the setting sun—he’d have to bring it closer, first…just a bit. Just the tiniest bit…

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?”

Emma’s panicked voice shocked Rumple out of his concentration, and he dropped the dagger and made a wild turn towards her.

“Miss Swan—”

Emma raced over to him and snatched the dagger up off the ground almost before Rumple had realized he’d let it go. Her other hand held a bouquet of flowers.

“—where did you get this?” Emma said, holding the dagger away from her as though it might bite. Rumple didn’t answer. He’d failed to bring the sun closer, but it felt like the entire sky was crashing down around him—he could hardly believe anything happening was real.

“You took it, didn’t you? From Belle?” Emma sounded almost heartbroken.

“—I was going to tell her,” Rumple said, his voice weak. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

“So why’d you steal it?”

Rumple looked down, trying to compose himself. “It’s complicated.”

“Always is with you.” Now disgust had entered Emma’s voice. “Why don’t you come with me?”

She was going to take him away, lock him up somewhere. And he didn’t know what to say to stop her.

“…Emma…”

“…no.” Emma shook her head and stepped closer to him, looking truly angry, now. “After what you tried to do to this town…to me? You don’t get the benefit of sneaking around. I’m taking you in…”

“Emma, my children—”

“—are gonna have to have a really tough conversation with you, I guess,” Emma said with a force that Rumple could see frightened even her. She knew what the cost of such a conversation would be. She blinked away the grief behind her eyes and looked at Rumple with disdain. “You should have thought about them before.”

“That’s what I was doing!” Rumple insisted, finally remembering the thing that could save him: he had only been trying to make things right. “This spell…it will work! It will get rid of my powers, just help me finish it.”

“ _That_ again?” Emma almost looked amused. “Really?”

“…look…” Rumple scrambled in his pocket for the parchment Zoso had given him. “I found this…”

He held it out to Emma, who set the flowers down on Bae’s grave before gingerly taking the paper.

“Where did you get this?”

“I came across it,” Rumple said, knowing he could never bring himself to tell Emma the truth—how he’d foolishly assumed that he could outwit the darkness. How could he have lied to himself about something so obvious? He’d walked this path before, so many times, and he always seemed to find himself lost in his own desire for the world to turn just the way he wanted.

“You really think they literally mean to make the sun…brighter?” Emma said, her eyebrows knit. “You were just going to blow it up bigger and hope you didn’t set everything on fire?”

“I—”

“Look, Gold…your head’s not on straight.” Emma now looked more concerned than anything. She understood the truth: desperation had made him foolish, even dangerous. That almost made it worse than when she’d assumed he’d come with malicious intent. “Just come with me. And don’t make me use this, okay?”

She gave the dagger a half-hearted wave.

“But my children—”

“—I’ll take care of them,” Emma said, and Rumple knew she was telling the truth. “Promise.”

Rumple nodded, feeling sick. It wasn’t much of a choice, but he knew what he had to do. He’d go with her of his own free will, and maybe—maybe—something could be salvaged of the mess he’d managed to make.


	11. Chapter 11

Belle hated how mortified she felt after the kissing incident. All things considered, it should have been a step forward, True Love’s Kiss or not. It constituted an admission of feelings, a desire to push their relationship to another level—and yet all Belle could feel was that she’d exposed herself as caring both too much and not enough.

Perhaps all they needed was some time. Belle threw herself into work the next day, desperate to forget what had happened, if only for a few minutes at a time. Unfortunately, work couldn’t save her from a sleepless night, where some voice inside of her whispered that something had gone terribly, irrevocably wrong.

By the dawn, things didn’t seem so ominous, and—though tired—Belle made her way to the library earlier than usual. It would get easier. It had to get easier, if she only forced things along.

However, no sooner had she finished her coffee than Regina came barging in, looking furious. Though Belle knew it was ridiculous, her first thought was that somehow Regina had found out about the kiss and had come to complain about it not breaking Rumple’s curse.

“Regina! Is everything alright?”

“You said you had things under control.”

For the life of her, Belle didn’t know what Regina was talking about—she’d hardly seen her in the past few weeks. Scrambling, she said:

“I’m sorry, is this about the budget augmentation request? We really do need a couple new computers. I could—”

“I’m talking about Gold and how he tried to blow up the sun last night,” Regina spat out. “Using the dagger that you’re supposed to be keeping out of his control.”

“Rumple has the dagger,” Belle murmured, feeling lightheaded.

“Not anymore, thanks to Emma.”

“Where is he?” Belle asked. She knew Emma wouldn’t have taken him out of town—apart from his darkness threatening the outside world, the town line wouldn’t keep him out anymore. She didn’t want to think that Emma would hurt him, but she couldn’t say with certainty that she wouldn’t.

“I assume the sheriff’s station,” Regina said, though Belle could tell she didn’t care in the slightest. “Did you really not have a single protection spell on it? How exactly were you expecting to keep it away from him?”

“I wasn’t,” Belle said without thinking, and Regina’s eyes widened. “I didn’t think he’d…what was he trying to do?”

“I didn’t ask,” Regina said, and Belle knew that whatever respect she’d earned with Regina was rapidly vanishing. “I was too busy wondering why on earth you would look me in the eye and tell me it was safe to bring him here without one—just one—plan for what to do if the darkness started calling to him again. Not a single safeguard.”

“You don’t know that he was doing anything wrong—” Belle said, whether in defense of Rumple or herself she wasn’t sure.

“—then why did he steal it from you?” The words stung, and Belle could hear her heart thudding in her chest, feel her face getting red. “After all this time…you still want to see the good in him. And I guess you were willing to put everyone else in danger to do it.”

Belle blinked back tears. “Regina, I—”

“—no,” Regina shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. It’s not your job to protect this town. It’s mine. And if there was something I wanted done, I should have done it myself. Coming here to scold you for not doing my job…is a waste of both of our times.”

As Regina turned to leave, the rush of guilt Belle felt turned into anger: at who she wasn’t yet sure. She took a deep breath and went to lock up.

Before she could feel anything, she needed answers, and there was only one place she was going to get them.

* * *

 

As Belle pulled up to the sheriff’s station, she saw Emma exiting her car with a pink box of donuts. Belle took as much comfort as she could from the sight; things couldn’t be so bad if Emma had gone to buy a half dozen bear claws.

Belle rushed out of her car and hurried to meet Emma at the entrance.

“Is Rumple here?” she said, and Emma jumped. “Is it true?”

“Belle—shit, you weren’t supposed to find out like this.” Emma looked at the ground. “Regina say something?”

Belle nodded. “What was he trying to do?”

“I’ll let him explain,” Emma said as she opened the door. “Belle—it’s not as bad as it seems. It really isn’t. He’s just…driving himself crazy. I’ve been there; I tried to explain that to Regina, but you know how she gets.”

Emma attempted a smile, and Belle knew the worst scenarios her imagination had drawn up hadn’t come true. Nevertheless, things had gone wrong enough to warrant serious concern.

“But he took the dagger,” she said, and Emma looked as though she’d rather do anything than affirm the statement.

“Yes,” she finally whispered. “Look: he wanted to call you and tell you himself last night, but I made him wait. He needed some time to wind himself down.”

At first, Belle couldn’t place Emma’s generosity. She was a good person, though they’d never been close, but something about the way she spoke puzzled Belle. More than almost anyone, she had every reason to throw the book at Rumple’s feet for his lapse in judgment. Then Belle realized why Emma was treating the situation with kid gloves.

“Where are his children?” she asked.

Sure enough, Emma went a bit pale before answering.

“We have a short list for our on-call foster parents—we almost never use them, but I’m glad Kathryn got the list set-up a few years ago because when you need it, you really need it…she had them into a vetted house before eleven o’clock last night.”

“Who took them?”

But before Emma could answer, her phone began buzzing in her back pocket. Fumbling with the donut box, Emma reached for her phone.

“Hold on, I’m sorry—” she said, after looking at the number. “You can talk to him if you want…he’s right in there…”

Belle nearly told Emma that she’d rather wait, but she knew waiting wouldn’t help, and so she made her way into station.

Rumple was sitting on a cot in one of the cells, his eyes shut tight, though Belle knew he wasn’t sleeping. His back was too rigid, and his fingers kept running over his ring—Belle was sure he’d rub the entire thing clean off his finger one day.

As Belle approached, Rumple opened his eyes. At first, he didn’t even look at her—he’d assumed she was Emma coming back, most likely, and was too consumed with his own thoughts to see for himself. But the click of her heels coming closer eventually turned his head, and he drew in a sharp breath upon seeing her.

“Belle…”

“Regina told me,” Belle said. “How long have you had it?”

“Only the one day…and it was only going to be temporary, just for a few spells—”

“—then why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you just ask? Or even…even tell me you’d taken it and why?” Belle said, her voice echoing louder than she meant for it to. “I never wanted it, Rumple. But you can’t lie to people—to _me_ —about what you’re doing and where you are.”

“I know,” Rumple said, his voice shaking. “I’m sorry. I would have told you, after. If it had worked.”

“That doesn’t count, and you know it,” Belle said, though the anger she felt towards him felt only half right. “You didn’t tell me because you don’t trust me—you didn’t think I’d say yes, and so you didn’t ask. I would have found a way to help you.”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Rumple said, and Belle’s heart sank. Seeing her face fall, Rumple stood up. “I didn’t mean…not because of you. Because of…Belle, it was a foolish idea, and I knew that from the start, and that’s why I didn’t tell you. I knew it would fail. And I’m tired of failing in front of the people I love.”

“What were you trying to do?” Belle asked, and for a terrifying moment Rumple looked as though he wouldn’t tell her. But then he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a piece of parchment.

“Here…I found this,” he said, reaching a hand out through the bars and handing Belle the paper.

It was the prophecy. Already translated and in a much different hand than the copy she had, but it was the same prophecy.

“Where did you get this?” she whispered, knowing her hand was shaking and eventually Rumple would notice and ask why.

“…Zoso,” he replied, and Belle looked up at him and realized he was too consumed by his own guilt to notice hers at all.

“What?”

“He’s talking to me again,” Rumple said in a matter of fact tone, though the words caused a chill to run up Belle’s spine. “Now that I’m back, so is he. And he gave it to me—I told myself it was to mock me for not having an eternal love. So I thought I’d outsmart him—go to Bae’s grave and perform a few spells. See if something happened. Deep down…I knew that wasn’t what it meant. Who knows if it’s even true…”

Belle could only hear a kind of buzzing in her ear as Rumple spoke—all the anger she felt was gone, and so was the guilt. Only a panic remained, a sense of being strangled, caught in a trap…and she interrupted Rumple with a shaking voice.

“I need to say something.”

Rumple stopped and stared at her in fear.

“I’ve seen this before,” she admitted. “Nova gave it to me—it’s a fairy prophecy.”

Rumple blinked, and Belle could sense him trying not to react. “You knew?”

“I wish I didn’t: you know better than anyone how the future can be misleading. It’s why I didn’t tell you.”

Carefully, slowly, Rumple said: “But it might have helped—”

“—can’t you see that it hasn’t?” Belle shouted over him, tears springing to her eyes. “Nothing ever does. We keep trying to move forward, and it’s never enough.  It just never—”

She burst into tears, unable to express what she felt—a sense of doom, of inevitable failure. She didn’t know how to say it, or if she even should.

“Here…” Rumple held out a hand to her, and she took it, locking her fingers in his. “It’ll be alright. We both know, now. And I’ll do better. I’ll do better, and—”

“—but it’s more than that.” Belle said through her sobs. “It’s…you did everything right in New York. Everything you needed to do. And so did I. I don’t understand—”

“—sometimes it’s just the way things happen,” Rumple said, his voice steady, though stricken through with a note of grief. He wasn’t wrong, but somehow Belle felt sure that in this case he wasn’t exactly right, either.

“…or sometimes there’s parts of the story you’re missing,” she said, trying to place her scrambled thoughts into order.

“What are you saying?” Rumple asked, as Belle let go of his hand.

 “I’m not sure yet,” Belle said. “But I’m going to find out. _We_ can find out. Together. But you have to want to.”

“I do,” Rumple said, though his brown was knit in confusion. “Of course I do.”

Rumple was always eager to agree, but often less eager to follow through, and Belle approached his enthusiasm with caution.

“You’re not saying that because that’s you think that’s what I want?”

Rumple shook his head. “I don’t want to do it alone. But what are you--?”

 “I’ll go to New York and find Merlin,” Belle said. “He must have had a reason for showing up, and we need to know what it is. And you…you can stay here and find out why the Dark One and the fairies both handed us this.”

Even as she said it, Belle knew the risk she was taking. Rumple hated the fairies more than almost anything, and the darkness would try and use that to lure him closer to destruction. But how was Rumple to prove anything to himself if he wasn’t given the chance? Besides, something told Belle Rumple wouldn’t easily forget the fall he’d taken last night. Perhaps it had been what he needed—to realize the darkness was both a real threat and something he could face.  

Rumple nodded, but then his face fell. “But Emma isn't likely to let me leave—”

“—I think we can make a deal,” Emma said, entering the room and throwing the donuts on the nearest desk. “You need supervision; that much is clear. Unfortunately, most avenues to make that happen involve a lot of paperwork, and I’d rather not go through all that trouble.”

Emma opened the donut box and procured a bear claw. “The easiest solution would be to phone a friend, but I think we both know you don’t have a lot of those around here. Lucky for you, I just got off the phone with the couple who has your kids—”

“—you want me to stay with Jack and Jill Sprat?” Rumple said in distaste.

Emma shook her head, chewing her bite of bear claw slowly before responding.

“About that…Kathryn sent me the wrong name last night. They aren’t with the Sprats.”

Rumple frowned. “Where did you send my children?”

“It’s fine—actually, it’s probably better that they’re with someone you know…”

“—where are they, Emma?”

Emma sighed and pulled out her keys.

“You two want to go for a drive?”

 


	12. Chapter 12

Emma looked back at Rumple through the rear-view mirror. “You gonna tell me why you’re so upset, or are you planning on seething the whole way there? Because I can turn on the radio…”

“How does someone like that find themselves approved for foster parenting?” Rumple said, half wishing he’d simply let Emma turn on her music. It didn’t make any difference, now.

“Look, if you’re hoping to find someone more qualified than Archie—”

“—you know that’s not who I’m referring to.”

“Really?” Emma grinned back at him, one eyebrow cocked. “You’re going to be the one lecture me about how I need to crack down on who we give kids to?”

Rumple said nothing; Emma had a good-natured constitution, and everything she’d done in the past fifteen hours had been a favor to him and his family. Despite his grumbling and underlying fear, he knew the blame couldn’t be placed with her.

“Anyway, do you know how impossible it is to find people who haven’t committed felonies in this town?” Emma continued, ignoring his silence. “They both took the training, same as everyone else, and Jefferson hasn’t caused any trouble since the curse broke. Unlike some people here.”

“I took the training,” Rumple muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” Emma asked, still looking far too pleased about the whole situation for Rumple’s comfort.

“Nothing.”

Emma shrugged and turned the music up. Its noisiness had little to do with the volume—the music of this world made Rumple feel like he was being shouted at by someone who had nothing to say. Rumple sighed and stared at the back of Belle’s head. She hadn’t said a word since they entered the car. Rumple couldn’t escape the fear that she was angry with him and pretending not to be. She placed so much pressure on herself to be perfect, to have the answers. Even when they weren’t her problems to solve. The last thing she needed was this—to clean up his mess.

And the last thing _he_ needed was to worry about ruining her life again; he already had three lives he needed to keep secure.  

Four, he reminded himself. Four. He had to count as well—his therapist had told him that. His psychiatrist too. Had he really had both, once upon a time? All of that seemed far away, now. Blurry and indistinct. Childish, even. As though the couches and prescriptions and hours of self-talk had come from a storybook, not him.

Had he been pretending, all that time? Playing at being someone he wasn’t? This was his world. His fate. Tied to an age-old curse he’d taken to save his son from being conscripted as a child solider.

Rumplestiltskin didn’t fit in the world he’d run away to. This was where he belonged, and now the children he’d mixed up in it all would pay the price for his delusion.

“We’re here,” Emma said as they pulled up to Jefferson’s mansion. In spite of himself, Rumple’s eyes widened. It was larger than his own—which spoke to where Regina’s resentment had sat, where the blame had gone. She’d wanted Jefferson lonelier, more desperate, than anyone else in town.

He hadn’t deserved it. The thought pressed on Rumple’s mind almost painfully. Jefferson hadn’t deserved the brunt of the blame for what had been his own fault. His own plan, for his own ends. Regina had been too broken to notice it at the time, too proud to admit that her tutor had used her. But Rumple knew the truth, and so did everyone else. Even Regina, now.

The trouble had been him.

Under the disdain he’d shown Emma for handing off his children to a cricket and a con man, embarrassment sat at the pit of his stomach. Everyone else seemed to be quite content to go on with their lives, and here he was. Trying and failing—again—to find a path to wholeness.

Jefferson waved to them from the front of the house, where he was watering the plants. Rumple averted his gaze. He hadn’t said a word to the man since the day he’d told him his services were no longer required; it hadn’t been a pleasant conversation, and Rumple suspected Jefferson’s feelings towards him hadn’t improved with time.

“You made good time,” Jefferson remarked as they got out of the car. He tore off his right glove and shook Emma’s hand. “Everyone else is inside…breakfast should be ready shortly.”

He gave Belle’s arm a warm squeeze, and Rumple looked down at the pavement. Everyone was friends, now. Breakfast and pleasantries and goodwill. And then there was him—a remnant of a past no one looked back on with fondness.

“Rumplestiltskin. How are you?”

Rumple almost jumped at Jefferson’s address, and Jefferson smirked.

“It’s been awhile,” he continued.

“Yes,” Rumple said, his throat dry.

“I’m sure you want to see the little ones,” Jefferson said, making a wide sweep of his arm in the direction of the front door. “They’re all safe and sound, I promise. You’ll remember, I’ve done raised children before. Still do, as a matter of fact.”

He led the way into the house, and no sooner had the door shut behind them than Benji rounded the corner into the foyer, followed by Josie.

“You came!” Benji cried out, grabbing Rumple by his legs so tightly he almost fell over. Rumple nudged him away and knelt down to properly embrace them both. They held him tighter than usual, and the sensation made Rumple nauseous. He remembered giving such hugs as a child, to a father who didn’t want them. Didn’t want _him_. Children sensed when they were an after-thought. A distraction.

They knew better, surely. He’d make it so they knew better.

“Where were you?” Benji asked, his arms still around Rumple’s neck.

“They already said where, Benji!” Josie said, pushing his shoulder, but Rumple hushed her gently.

“I don’t mind answering for myself,” he said. “I had a bit of an accident, but it’s all better now. Did you sleep alright?”

“Mmhm.” Benji rested his head on Rumple’s shoulder.

Rumple looked over at Josie, who was chewing on the nail of her index finger. “And you?”

“Yes,” Josie said, not taking her finger out of her mouth. “Except I woke up once.”

Benji lifted up his head. “I didn’t wake up even at all!” he shouted.

“Not at all?” Rumple ran his hand through Benji’s hair. “That’s good, isn’t it? Were you worried?”

“A little,” Josie said. “But they have a doggy!”

“I know it—Pongo, yes?”

Josie’s eyes widened, and her finger finally came out of her mouth. “How’d you know that?”

“We’re friends, him and I,” Rumple said. Josie giggled.  

“With Pongo?”

“Absolutely. He’s a good listener. All dogs are.”

“We should get a doggy,” Josie replied. “When we go home.”

“We’ll see…” Rumple said. “And where’s your sister?”

“She’s with Grace.” Rumple looked up to see Archie had joined them. He’d almost forgotten anyone else was there at all, but none of the adults had left the foyer. He stood up quickly, once again feeling as though the only place he could safely look was the floor.  “I think she’ll want to talk to you. We’ve done our best to get her settled, but she’s…she remembers what it was like before.”

Rumple nodded, hyperaware of the many pairs of eyes fixated on him, waiting for a reaction. He shrugged them off and looked at Archie.

“Where exactly is she?”

* * *

Archie’s words had placed an image of a sobbing Meg into Rumple’s head; reality was far more forgiving. She was sitting on the floor of Grace’s room, playing a board game. Though her back was to Rumple, he could sense that—for the moment, at least—all was well.

“They’ve gotten along wonderfully,” Archie said with a smile. It had been a clever move, pushing the two girls together. Meg craved the approval of people older than her, especially older children. They were the peers she wished to have; she often complained about the immaturity of her second-grade class, and most of her friends were at least a year older than she was. To be recruited by Grace, a teenager, was a badge of honor and a worthy distraction from the upset in their living situation.

Grace smiled at them as they entered the room. She nudged Meg’s arm and pointed at the doorway.

“Hey, look who it is!”

Meg’s eyes went wide at seeing Rumple. For a moment, she almost smiled. Then her face went blank, and Rumple knew they wouldn’t be talking about Pongo.

“Can I speak to her alone for a minute?” he asked Grace, who nodded.

“Sure,” she said. “We can finish after breakfast. Okay, Meg?”

Meg didn’t move, and –until the door clicked shut behind him—neither did Rumple. He took a breath and sat down next to Meg on the carpet. Sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, he could feel its largeness. It’s strangeness, to a child who didn’t know why they were there at all. It was a lovely house, and the people there were good people. He knew that, standing in the doorway. Here on the floor, he only felt confusion.

“You aren’t happy with me, are you?” he said, looking at Meg.

“Why didn’t you come back to get us?” Meg stared up at him with more solemnity than anger.

“I made a mistake, and I needed to fix it,” Rumple replied. “I had some friends make sure you had somewhere to stay for the night.”

Meg kicked out one of her legs from their crisscross position and frowned.

“That lady last night wasn’t your friend.” Now Rumple could hear anger in her voice. “She was from social services.”

Rumple went pale, and—unfortunately—Meg noticed.

“I’m not a baby like Benji or Josie,” she continued. “You can’t just tell me whatever you want and think I’ll believe it.”

“You’re right,” Rumple said. “I’m sorry.”

Meg looked puzzled by this reaction, as if she’d expected to be told she didn’t understand. She reached out and grabbed the toes of her outstretched foot in lieu of a response. Rumple wondered if he hadn’t made a mistake in choosing not to deny her assessment of the situation.

“Well, you’re partly right, anyway,” he amended. “Kathryn’s a social worker, that’s true. But if it helps: I do know Jefferson well. We were…well, we were almost friends,” Rumple said with a wry smile. “And Dr. Hopper’s helped me more than a few times before. So they aren’t strangers, really.”

Still stretching, Meg simply said: “To me they were.”

“Yes. That’s true,” Rumple whispered, feeling as though the wind had been taken out of him by Meg’s words.

Meg stared at him, straightening up and tucking her legs back into a pretzel shape.

“So are we living here now?”

“No, no,” Rumple said quickly, understanding her intent with the question. “I mean…we’re all going to, for now.”

“You too?” Meg asked, eyes narrowed.

“Me too,” Rumple said. “But we’ll go back to New York at the end of the summer, just like before. It’s just… I think it would be nicer to stay here while we’re in town, don’t you? A little more help and company?”

He was half-worried Meg would shut him down again for treating her like a baby, but she considered the question seriously before nodding slowly. Rumple smiled, but before he could suggest they go down and wait for breakfast, Meg spoke again.

“I thought you were sending us to another house.”

She said it matter-of-factly and without any kind of emotional pretense. She’d done it before, and she’d been prepared to do it again. Deep down, she’d anticipated his failure and abandonment.

“I wouldn’t do that, Meg,” Rumple said, hoping against all odds that the words meant something to her. “I promise.”

Meg nodded, and now he could see tears in her eyes, though she was doing her best to hide them. She didn’t like crying; she was like Bae that way.

 “I don’t want to go anywhere else,” she whispered, as though making her voice softer would stop the tears.

“I know it,” Rumple whispered in return. “I don’t want you to, either. Here…”

He held out his arms, half expecting her to reject them, but she embraced him without hesitation. Unlike Benji and Josie, there was something sure about her grip on him. She believed him, at least for now.

A knock on the door interrupted them, and Jefferson peeked his head in without waiting for a response.

“Breakfast is ready whenever you are,” he said, smiling at Meg. “I told you he’d be here just as soon as he could, didn’t I?”

Meg gave a sheepish nod.

“But you didn’t say you knew him,” she said as Jefferson turned to leave. He paused in the doorway before turning back around.

“I thought he should be the one to tell the story. I can’t be trusted to tell it fairly,” he said cryptically before leaving the room. Rumple closed his eyes in frustration.

“What story?” Meg asked.

“He’s just being silly,” Rumple said, reaching for his cane. “Shall we go to breakfast?”

It wasn’t until they’d left the room that Meg said:

 “Was he your boyfriend?”

Rumple stopped dead in the middle of the hallway and stared down at her. “What?”

“Jefferson,” Meg said innocently. “He married a boy, so he probably had boyfriends. And you said you were almost friends. So like a boyfriend. That’s almost friends.”

Rumple opened his mouth and closed it several times before answering.

“Well, if we were—and I’m not saying you’re right, mind you—it probably wouldn’t be very nice to talk about now that he’s married, would it?”

He managed a smile, and Meg grinned in response.

“No…”

“Then let’s not talk about it anymore just now, alright?” Rumple said quietly.

“Talk about what?”

Rumple turned around wildly at Belle’s voice coming just over his left shoulder. He hadn’t even heard her coming up the stairs.

“I’m sorry,” she said, laughing at his wide-eyed expression. “I thought you’d heard me…breakfast is ready.”

“I know,” Rumple said, too quickly. “I mean…Jefferson’s just come up to tell us.”

It took him another moment to realize that Belle already knew that and had come to talk to him about something else.

“Meg? Why don’t you go on down…I’ll join you in just one minute.”

“One minute?” Meg said doubtfully.

“Count it.”

“Okay…” Meg said, a knowing edge to her voice that Rumple didn’t like. She was too clever—if he’d learned nothing else that day, he’d learned that.

“Is she doing better?” Belle asked as Meg trotted down the steps, counting down from sixty.

“I think so.”

“She knows you wouldn’t just leave her,” Belle assured him, sensing his fears. “She might have doubted it because of other things that have happened to her, but she knows you. She trusts you.”

But trust could be damaged, Rumple thought to himself. And he wouldn’t have many more chances before things became broken beyond repair.

“This can’t happen again,” he said, his voice shaking. “Whatever we do…this can’t happen again.”

Belle shook her head, a peculiar look in her eyes. Like she’d discovered something. “It won’t.”

“Are you staying for breakfast?” Rumple asked, after a pause.

“No—I’m going back with Emma for now. I’ll come back, though. We have things to talk about.”

“Yes, we—”

“One!” Meg called up from the bottom of the stairs. “I got to one!”

“I’m coming!” Rumple shouted back.

* * *

“So I called the university—it’s like Matthew Samson wasn’t ever there. They remembered me visiting, though. Like someone else had shown me around…”

Rumple couldn’t help but be relieved by Belle’s immediate choice of conversation. He’d spent the day worrying about whether time and reflection would sour her to the entire idea of working with him. It had been all he could do to throw himself into moving everything from his own salmon house to the mansion they were currently residing in; the chaos provided at least a flimsy distraction from his anxiety over what might happen when Belle returned.

If anything, Belle had seemed more refreshed, more resolute, upon her return. She’d spent her day packing as well—amongst other things, as he was quickly finding out.

“How did he manage it without magic?” Belle pondered, shifting on the white couch that formed the centerpiece of one of the mansion’s several sitting rooms.

“He didn’t,” Rumple said. “He brought it over. Just like me.”

“There has to be a way to find him…to contact him…”

“Aren’t you friends with his apprentice?” Rumple asked, though he didn’t expect the question to be something Belle hadn’t considered.

“I tried him. He doesn’t believe the man you saw could be Merlin,” Belle said, and Rumple could tell from the pink creeping into her cheeks that he’d hit upon a story. “I asked him if he could try find something anyway, but he’s stubborn. It’s funny—he’s good at giving advice. So good you almost think he has all the answers. But when I mentioned Merlin…he was a human who was afraid of hoping for something he’d lost. He was almost angry.”

“Pain makes us children again. Afraid and angry…wanting so much and feeling like you can’t take anything at all.”

Belle nodded, looking intently at Rumple

“How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he said. It was the truth, something he’d sworn to himself to tell from now on. His soul depended on it.

“Any voices?” Belle asked.

“Not yet,” Rumple assured her. “They’ll be back. I just need to be ready.”

Belle hesitated before speaking, choosing her words with care.

“Will it help you? To look for answers?”

She was worried he couldn’t do it. That he’d run off ahead—or perhaps trail behind—leaving her in the lurch once again. Rumple wasn’t sure there was anything he could say that would reassure her, but he could at least tell her the truth.

“I have to do something. The right thing, if I can find out what that is. But when I sit and wait, I get impatient. Afraid. And that fear pushes me to do something, anything—and at the time it seems right, even if it isn’t. I have to watch close for that. Closer than I have been.”

He chanced a glance at Belle, who was staring at his knee.

“That’s what happened yesterday,” he continued. “I wasn’t looking for the right something, and I was too afraid to know it.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, and Rumple knew the conversation he’d been dreading all day had come. Surprisingly, he didn’t feel the same sickening anxiety that had crept up on him each time he’d considered what he’d say.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I did the same thing as before, that I set everything back—”

“—it’s not the same.” Belle’s voice was quiet, but her tone was sure. She’d thought about it, too. “It was a mistake. It was wrong. But it wasn’t the same thing. You took something you thought you needed, something that’s hardly mine to begin with, and you took it to try and fix a problem—a real problem, one we all knew about.”

She looked at him, then, her eyes shining, but her lip firm.

“You should have told me—not because it wasn’t yours to take, but because taking it without telling anyone could have hurt you. It could have hurt everyone. The darkness likes it when you make decisions alone.”

“I know it,” Rumple murmured. “I know it.”

“That’s why I’m glad you’re here. Archie’s always good to talk to, and Jefferson understands so much of what you’re going through. It’ll be good for all of you.”

“I’m sure Dr. Hopper and Jefferson feel the same way…” Rumple said dryly.

“You know, I think they both like you more than you give them credit for,” Belle said. “Or more than you give yourself credit for.”

“They’re good with the children,” Rumple said, side-stepping the issue of whether or not the men he was being asked to live with were his friends. He had quite enough to deal with at the moment. “That’s the most important thing. Though I don’t know how I’ll stop them from begging for a dog now they’ve--”

“Papa?”

Benji’s voice came from the entrance of the room. Rumple was surprised he hadn’t heard him coming. Benji wasn’t known for being quiet; perhaps the new location and housemates encouraged more discretion.

“What is it, son?”

“My tummy hurts!” Benji said, stepping further into the sitting room, clutching his stomach (Rumple guessed more out of dramatic flair than genuine pain).

“You ate too much dessert, didn’t you?” Rumple said with a grin, and Benji’s eyes narrowed even as his lips turned up in a guilty smile.

“No…”

With a chuckle, Rumple patted the cushion next to him. “Alright then, come sit here with me until it passes…you don’t have to throw up, do you?”

“Nope,” Benji said as he plopped down next to Rumple and leaned into his side, already seeming perkier than he had a moment ago.

“Just for a minute, alright?” Rumple murmured, putting his arm around Benji, who nodded.

“I might take Ruby,” Belle said. “To New York.”

“Of course, you should take someone,” Rumple agreed. “I can get you Cruella and Ursula’s information, but I can’t promise they’ll be any help.”

“Well, given that they tried to kill me…I’d be lying if I said I wanted to rely on their help,” Belle said with a grin. “I know they’ve changed—”

“—a precious little bit—”

“—still. Forward is forward.”

Rumple got the impression she wasn’t really speaking about Cruella and Ursula. He let the comment pass and shuffled through his mind to think of something else to say that would pass over Benji’s radar.

“Were you ever going to tell me Jefferson married Archie?” he said. The day had been such a mess, he’d hardly been able to register the news, and yet it was one of the more novel things he could have imagined happening in Storybrooke.

“It’s been a year and a half,” Belle said. “I forgot. I mean, I didn’t forget they were married; I forgot it was news.”

“Did you go?”

“I did,” Belle replied. “It was nice. They met at my library, did you know that?”

“I did not,” Rumple said, smiling at how proud Belle looked at her assistance in creating the match.

“Ruby wanted to have a queer literature night, and they both came.”

“In the library?” Rumple quipped. Belle’s eyes widened, but so did her smile.

“Now, that I don’t know…”

“Papa?” Benji said, sitting up. “Can you take me back to bed?”

“That was quick—you’re feeling better already?”

“Yes,” Benji said, scooting off the couch.

“Well, I suppose we’d better put you back where you came from, shouldn’t we?”

Benji wasn’t always easy to put to bed, but tonight he seemed content with the attention he’d already received. He only requested one extra kiss for his stuffed elephant before promptly shutting his eyes and curling up under his covers.

“Good night,” Rumple murmured, still perched on the edge of his bed.

“Night, Papa,” Benji said, eyes still shut tight. “I love you.”

“I love you too. I’ll see you in the morning, alright?”

Benji nodded, and Rumple gave his head one last kiss before leaving the room, keeping the door open just a crack. Belle, who had followed them up and waited in the doorway, had that same look of discovery in her eye Rumple had sensed that afternoon.

“You’re so gentle with them.”

“They’re my children,” Rumple said, not knowing what else to say. Belle’s brow knit in concern.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Rumple said, not pausing to give the question any thought. As soon as the denial left him, he knew it wasn’t quite true. Of course, it couldn’t be. Had there ever been a time in his life—in anyone’s life—where nothing was wrong?

“You’re worried about tonight,” Belle said. “Once it gets quiet.”

In truth, he hadn’t thought of it in such concrete terms, though he supposed something inside of him knew what often came with the silence in the night. Perhaps that knowing had crept into his face without his permission.

“I’ll manage,” he said, hoping it was the truth. He could see in Belle’s eyes what she wanted to say, and a part of him wanted to let her.

“I could—”

“—you’ll be gone tomorrow, anyway,” he interrupted, feeling suddenly unable to hear the words.

“But I’m here today.”

He wanted her to stay; how could he ever want anything else? And yet, something inside of him pulled away from the offer for fear of what it might bring about.

 “You said before that you lost yourself helping me,” Rumple began, looking at the banister just past Belle’s right shoulder. “That was the worst part of all of it. Who you are is…wonderful—you’re the best person I know. I don’t want to take that away from you again.”

Belle closed her eyes for a moment before answering.

“I’m going tomorrow because Merlin looked for me first, and I want to know why,” she said, softly. “You know me: I’m always looking for a reason to travel, to have an adventure. This one is about me, too. I can feel it.”

There was a joy in her eyes. She hadn’t been busy all that day just for him—she’d been eager to set out for her own sake. For her own answers.

Belle reached out for his hand, and he grasped it tightly.

“What I said before, about losing who I was…it wasn’t about helping you. I like helping you, and I want you to be happy. That’s a part of me as well. But you had to help yourself, too,” she said. “It’s not like before—you didn’t care before. About yourself or anything else. It was like dragging a weight. Now we can just…walk together.”

Rumple didn’t know what to say, and even if he had, he feared the words would bring tears along with them. He wanted her to stay, and she wanted to stay. There was nothing stopping them from going to his room together. Not a thing in the universe. The truth of that was too remarkable to put to words.

Instead, he nodded and proceeded down the hallway with her, arm in arm. 


	13. Chapter 13

 

Belle’s phone buzzed on the bedside table, jolting her awake. One eye open, her hand swung out to grab the phone. Squinting, she read the screen: Ruby.

“Hello?” Belle said, eyes closed, leaning back onto her pillow.

“Did I wake you up?” Ruby asked, sounding chipper.

“Yes.”

“Sorry! You know what, it was a stupid question anyway.”

“Just ask,” Belle said with a laugh.

“What kind of chips do you like? For the road?”

“The ruffled kind.”

 “What about flavor? They have salt and vinegar, barbeque—”

“I just like the plain ones.”

“Really?” Ruby sounded disappointed. “Okay…but I’m getting barbeque too.”

“Okay. Bye.”

Belle set her phone back down and sighed. She was glad she’d asked Ruby to come along, but she sincerely hoped that early mornings wouldn’t be a hallmark of the trip. She didn’t know how it was possible for Ruby to be both a night owl and a morning person.

As she lowered herself back under the covers, she felt a stirring next to her on the bed. Rumple was still beside her and fast asleep, face half buried in a pillow.

Belle had never seen him like this before—often, he’d been out of bed and making breakfast long before she awoke. Even when he’d stayed in bed, Belle always knew that he’d waited for her. She’d never complained: he wasn’t in the habit of sleeping, and Belle had no doubt he’d only ever meant to show her he cared. Most of the time, she even liked waking up to his smile or the smell of coffee. It was only every once in a while that a nasty feeling of being left behind crept up her spine and made her shudder.

That feeling came to the fore after she discovered Rumple’s scheming, and suddenly each and every morning had felt like a tiny deception. He’d known the entire time she couldn’t keep up with him, and he’d used the night to his advantage, only to pretend every morning that things were fine.

Even after she promised to stay with him the night before, she’d feared waking up alone yet again. But there he was, sleeping as if he were an ordinary man without secrets or shadows to plague him through the night. He even looked peaceful. Perhaps his dreams were friendlier than his reality, and in sleep he could return to the innocence of before. Before the curse, long before she’d ever known him.

Belle reached out and brushed his hair back from his face. He seemed young. Gentle. Her fingers lingered on his face. Half of her wanted him to wake; the other half feared taking away a moment of the respite he desperately needed.  

He decided for her, his eyes fluttering open. He looked at her, and Belle thought she saw a flash of surprise on his face, though it vanished before she could be sure.

“Hey,” he murmured, a smile crossing his face.

“Hey,” she replied, feeling suddenly giddy.

Rumple’s brow knit. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Belle said. “I just…you’ve never been asleep when I’ve woken up before.”

“Never?” Rumple sounded incredulous, though Belle could see that he knew it was the truth.

“Nope. First time.”

She tried to make her voice light, for in truth she meant it as a compliment. He’d worked too hard to be made to feel guilty for the things he’d struggled with before. Thankfully, Rumple’s crestfallen look passed away as soon as Belle’s hand moved back up to his face.

“You seemed so happy to be resting,” she said, and Rumple shook his head.

“I was happy to be with you.”

Had she read them in a novel, Belle would have laughed at the words. But Rumple’s earnestness made even the most cliché of gestures ring true.

“Me too,” Belle whispered, leaning her face closer to his. Rumple nodded, and they lingered, foreheads almost touching, until Belle finally closed the gap by kissing him. As soon as their lips separated, Rumple pulled her back in, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek.

This time, Belle didn’t need to pretend she was encountering something new—for now she understood the Apprentice’s assignment. The past lived on in the present, but nothing came to pass without containing a spark of something new. She could feel that spark resonating through every move they made, even as other things felt entirely familiar.

As their kisses grew deeper and their hands moved lower, Belle knew that one of two things would have to happen. She pulled away, gently, already knowing which it would be.

“Wait…” she said. Before Rumple could stammer out an apology, she smiled and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

Belle knew that sleeping with her ex husband in someone else’s home already disqualified the experience from being respectable, but the least she could do was spend five minutes getting ready. Besides, she needed a moment alone to gather herself.

As she shut off the sink, she let her eyes creep up to the mirror. The embarrassment or fear she’d expected to see on her face was nowhere to be found. Her cheeks were flushed, but that was due to excitement, perhaps the heat—and she was smiling.

This was what she wanted, and she wasn’t afraid.

Even as she reentered the bedroom, she didn’t feel so much as a hint of lurking shyness while climbing into bed. Rumple looked dazed, but he held his arms out to embrace her anyway. Belle didn’t think she was imagining how his touch had grown steadier, how he pulled back to look at her more often than he had before. Too often, he’d moved with a kind of urgency, a nervous energy. As though if he lingered too long in one place, he’d be too disgusted with himself to continue. He’d been attentive, always attentive. But happy? Sometimes Belle had wondered.

Now, he moved without any anxiety at all. Belle didn’t know why or how, but something inside of him was stronger than it had been before. His fragility and franticness had dissipated, and something warmer had taken their place. He was enjoying himself, enjoying their time together, even when they both knew she would have to leave him behind in a few short hours.

Their efforts were anything but graceful—every so often, the years they spent apart came between them. They were clumsy and out of practice, but the hushed laughter they shared was better than all the grace in the world.

At first, Belle’s mind kept running in the background, trying to find something that wasn’t desire, something that might pull her back from the happiness she felt.  She couldn’t uncover anything—not doubt or fear or guilt. Even if she could have, she found the search dull and easy to abandon. She wanted to stay in the light, in the place where the sun was just shining through the curtains and the man she loved looked at her with such irresistible joy she could burst.

And didn’t she deserve what she wanted, after everything?

Though discretion kept her from exclaiming as loudly as she was accustomed to, Belle found that the quiet only increased the sense of intimacy. Rumple was as close to her as he could be, close enough to hear any moan, feel any shudder, and he responded to every one of them. That hadn’t changed, and Belle tumbled over the edge more than once before they’d finished, each time reaching out for more of him, wanting him to be closer still.  

Even after the desire settled, the closeness remained. Belle wouldn’t mind if it never left, and she settled into Rumple’s arms, she clasped his hand in hers and kissed it before shutting her eyes tight.

They were half-asleep again when a knock on the door had Rumple scrambling for his clothes and Belle pulling the blanket up over herself.

Rumple opened the door to reveal Josie standing in the doorway.

“Good morning,” he said, even as Josie noticed Belle in his bed. She looked up at Rumple in confusion, but instead of inquiring further, Josie leaned into Rumple’s leg.

“I’m hungry,” Belle heard her murmur.

“That’s an easy fix,” Rumple replied, rubbing her back. “Give me a minute to get ready, and then we’ll see what we can find, alright?”

Josie nodded and half turned to go before saying:

“There’s bagels so can I please have one?”

“I’m sure you can,” Rumple assured her, and Josie went off down the hallway without another word.

Rumple shut the door, looking quite serious.

“I’ll get you something,” he said. “For…we’ll have to get something. I’ll get it, I mean.”

“Oh,” Belle said, realizing what he meant. “Oh, of course. Yes. That’s…thank you.”

The last thing they needed was a pregnancy. Belle knew that, though a part of her grieved the fact that she would have to reject the possibility out of hand. Perhaps another time…but she shook the thought from her head. He had children already, and she’d hardly gotten to know them. She hadn’t even decided if she wanted to be with him at all. She was going to New York with nothing but a prayer to try and fix a problem with no current solutions.

To even think of a future that included a child between them was foolishness.

Rumple sat down on the bed beside her.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she replied, taking his hand. “I’m just sorry I have to go, is all.”

* * *

 

Belle watched Rumple drive off before reluctantly entering Granny’s. Ruby, who’d watched them say goodbye through the window, stared at her with wide eyes. Thankfully, she didn’t say anything, though Belle knew she’d ask about the kiss once they were alone.

“Almost ready?” Belle asked, voice stiff.

“All packed. But before we go, there’s someone here to see you.”

Ruby gestured to the booth in the corner. The Apprentice was sitting there, his back to the door, nursing a cup of tea.

“Came in about twenty minutes ago,” Ruby continued. “Maybe he found something after all?”

Belle nodded and approached the booth, her heart pounding in her chest. If he’d found a way to contact Merlin, then they had a real chance of finding him.

The Apprentice spoke before Belle could say so much as hello.

"I've come to ask your forgiveness. I didn't take my own advice, and as a result, I tried to push you away from what is most important to you. You've trusted me, time and again, and I didn't trust you. Forgive me."

"Of course,” Belle said, sitting down across from him. The apology was kind, but unnecessary. She understood his hesitance to hope for the return of someone he’d lost so long ago.

"Now, I'm afraid my answer is the same as before: I have nothing that can help you,” the Apprentice said, and Belle leaned back in her seat in disappointment. “Magic is elusive, even in our own realm. But here? It's like trying to catch dust in the wind. But I can wish you luck, Belle. And a careful, well-placed wish is a bit of magic that rarely goes amiss."

He smiled at her, and somehow Belle felt that she wouldn’t leave the table empty handed. If he could believe, so could she. A wish wasn’t the worst place to start.

"Thank you,” she said. “For everything. And when we find him, do you want us to call--?”

The Apprentice held out a hand to stop her. "— _if_ you find him, he will tell you what to do next."

* * *

Ruby cleared her throat.

"So...are you guys together or--?”

Belle sighed. They hadn’t even reached the city limits, and they had hours of driving ahead of them.

"I don't know...I don't have time to think about that right now,” Belle said. “Maybe. After this is over..."

"Just tell me you were careful,” Ruby said, her eyes on the road.

"You're not my--"

"—he has three kids already, Belle."

"Four,” Belle said.

"You know what I mean. Would you want to, you know...be their mom?"

"I really can't think about it right now--"

"Well, you'll have to sometime,” Ruby said, glancing over at her. “Because he wants both. You know that. So you have to decide if that's what you want. I know it's not of cosmic importance or whatever, but it's your life, and it matters.”

"I know it's important…" Belle said. Ruby was trying to be helpful; Belle knew that. All she could feel, however, was defensive.

"What about school? Are you still going?"

"Of course I'm still going.”

"Even if it means leaving him in Storybrooke?"

"Yes," Belle said, with a ferocity she didn't mean.

"Okay..." Ruby clearly knew the conversation wasn’t going anywhere fruitful, and she was prudent enough not to prod further.

Somehow, the silence was worse than Ruby’s questioning.

* * *

 

"How are Cruella and Ursula treating you?" Rumple asked. Belle, who was sitting on the bed in his New York apartment, leaned back against the headboard and closed her eyes. It was the closest she’d come to feeling at peace since she left Storybrooke.

"Just fine, by their standards,” she said. “They even paid for my dinner."

In truth, Belle didn’t think Cruella and Ursula would be much help, but they were one of the only lifelines Belle had in New York, and she wasn’t about to tell Rumple that they’d already told her they didn’t have the faintest idea what to do next.

"They must feel guilty,” Rumple said. “Or one of them does."

"No need to guess which,” Belle said, laughing.

"I wish I could have gone with you, Belle.”

"Me too,” she said softly. “But you’ll be back here soon. You'll have to show me all the places you usually go."

A figure in the doorway made Belle jump. She’d thought she was alone in the apartment, but there Cruella was, casting a long shadow and holding what looked to be a spare key.

"Hold on—” Belle said into the phone. “Yes?"

"Hate to interrupt, darling, but I think we might have a way to find your mystery gentleman after all,” Cruella drawled. She didn’t look at all happy about the news.

"Are you serious?"

"Deadly,” Cruella said, already turning to leave. “Though you'd better come quickly, before I change my mind.”


	14. Chapter 14

In one way or another, shame had marred most of Rumple’s life. Some of that shame was well deserved; some of it sprang from the trauma of being rejected by both his parents. All of it kept him from ever lifting his chin up for more than a few moments at a time. Rumple had learned that those moments of pride were when the shame most liked to strike.

Sleeping with Belle should have undone him for weeks. An unplanned sexual encounter with a woman whose heart he’d broken, in a home that wasn’t his? He hadn’t even had a condom on hand, and—whatever Belle said—Rumple knew that driving to the drug store to pick up emergency contraception was a situation no upstanding man would have put her through.

He’d gone in himself to pay for it, his hands shaking the entire time. He briefly considered threatening the pharmacist with a slow, painful death if he ever told anyone about the purchase. However, he was already making a spectacle of himself as it was, and though there was a part of him that wished desperately to lash out at the pharmacist’s barely contained sneer, another part of him had grown used to simply ignoring irritations in life.

And that’s all it was. An irritation. He needn’t respond to it.

No, if he was going to ruin his progress by cracking someone’s skull, it would be the Blue Fairy’s.

Besides, when he’d climbed back into the car, Belle had greeted him with such a genuine smile that Rumple all but forgot what had upset him in the first place.

She wasn’t sorry for what had happened, and neither was he. How could he be? All he’d ever wanted was to be with her again. The ache of desire he’d felt when they’d kissed had turned into something joyous once he realized that they could go on doing it, if they wanted. Magic or not.

They could be happy.

 

* * *

 

 

The children were taking well to having Archie, Grace, and Jefferson around. For the first time since arriving back in Storybrooke, Rumple could imagine staying there longer. Perhaps once he’d adopted them, once Belle’s schooling was over…it was a nice town, after all, with more space and a better school. He wouldn’t have to work so much, and they could have a big house, with a backyard. A dog, too, if they wanted one.

As he watched them play with Pongo in the park, Rumple almost forgot there was anywhere to go back to at all.

“Want some company?”

Rumple looked up at Jefferson, who was standing just outside the edge of the picnic blanket. They hadn’t spoken much since Rumple’s arrival, leaving Archie to smooth over the gaps in conversation. Rumple had assumed Jefferson despised him for cutting him off all those years ago, for using him and then throwing him away when sincerity began to creep into the picture.

Not waiting for Rumple to respond, Jefferson sat down beside him on the blanket.

“You know, I was thinking about those prophecies, and I’m fairly certain I know what’s happening,” he said.

“Oh, you do, do you?” Rumple winced at his sardonic reply. Something about Jefferson put him on edge—he’d been one of the only people Rumple had ever left behind, and the role reversal put him entirely out of sorts. Thankfully, Jefferson ignored his sarcasm.

“It’s simple: why do you think two separate age-old entities, supposedly on opposite sides of an existential war, would hand off the same information?"

Rumple shrugged. Jefferson had never been able to simply say what he wanted outright. Sometimes it was charming, watching him build to a point. Just now, Rumple wished he’d hurry up.

"In order to have a game, you need players,” Jefferson said. "They want you to go on playing by the rules."

Rumple frowned. "At what? What could they possible want me to do?"

"Be the Dark One.” They met eyes for the first time the entire conversation, and Rumple was surprised at how serious Jefferson looked.

“Think about it: you're a perfect compromise. You can never gain too much power, because you're still one person. Eventually you'll meet a grisly end, and someone else will come in, learn the ropes, die...over and over. The darkness has a hold, but it can't win. If you stop playing, everything stops working."

Rumple didn’t know what surprised him more: that Jefferson had cared enough to think about his problem in such detail, or that he’d come to such a chilling conclusion. Something about the words rang true, even as Rumple’s mind told him it couldn’t be.

"Except the Blue Fairy tried to get me sent here, ages ago,” he protested. Jefferson didn’t so much as blink before answering.

"Is that what she was doing? Because from what I can tell, her giving your son that bean leveled everything up. Took it to a whole new dimension of reality. A new world, a new fighting ground.”

"You think she knew what would happen?" Rumple could hear the strain in his voice, the way his breath was hitching in his throat, but there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it.

"You and I both know there were other ways of getting here,” Jefferson murmured, leaning in closer. “But only one way we’d all come along too." 

Rumple closed his eyes, feeling dizzy. Bae had wanted so badly to find a way to save him. He could still remember how happy he’d been to have found a way—a place where his father could be the man he’d been before. And that damned fairy had never wanted them to succeed in the first place.

"She used him,” he whispered.

"I'm sorry."

Rumple’s eyes shot up to look at Jefferson, but he was looking intently at one of the patches in the blanket, his face pale. He knew what it meant to lose your child due to the machinations of someone else.

He was meant to be a father. Rumple remembered knowing that soon after he met him and feeling sick at heart. Jefferson would have stayed, but the cost would have been his soul. For reasons he still didn’t understand, Rumple had decided that it wasn’t a price he could let him pay.

"What do we do?" he asked.

Jefferson shook his head. “You’re asking the wrong person.”

 

* * *

 

 

Even as they stood in the foyer of the nunnery, Rumple wanted to make a run for it back to the car. For some reason, Archie was convinced that if they discussed the matter, everything could be resolved. Rumple knew better—the Blue Fairy would never admit she’d done anything wrong, and he certainly wasn’t going to forgive her in a hurry.

Still, a part of him wanted Archie to be right. Archie’s world was simple and fair and honest, and though he didn’t believe in it, it was a world in which Rumple wished he could live.

At the very least, his presence would ensure the Blue Fairy left the meeting alive.

She recognized the scroll in Rumple’s hand immediately, her face turning pale.

"I didn't give that to you,” she said, her voice terse. “I gave it to Belle."

"And why did you give it to her?" Rumple stepped close, reveling in how the simple gesture made her step back, ever so slightly. She would never believe he didn’t mean her any harm—why shouldn’t he use it to his advantage?

"She was looking for help, and I had some information that I thought would prove useful."

Rumple’s eyes narrowed, but the Blue Fairy didn’t flinch. Of course, she wouldn’t—not yet. Her skill had been honed over centuries—millennia, perhaps.

"The same information Zoso gave to me?"

Her eyes narrowed. "What do you--?”

"He gave me one as well,” Rumple said, delighting in how the news made the Blue Fairy’s fingers twitch. “Seems you draw from the same sources. Care to explain?"

Her shoulders rolled back, and she lifted her chin. Performative, of course, but that’s all anyone ever wanted with a fairy.

 "I don't pretend to know the reason the Dark One does anything.”

"Why don't you try?” Rumple sneered. “Just as an exercise?"

He could hear the snarl in his voice, and he half turned to Archie, expecting him to intervene. However, Archie held his silence. He needed more time to observe, perhaps. He had an unnerving habit of letting people talk too long, and then—only after they’d said too much—he’d offer his own opinion. It was usually right.

Rumple wished he’d hurry up this time.

"You can't just come in here and demand answers to unfounded accusations, just to make yourself feel less responsible for what's happened,” the Blue Fairy said.

“Oh, I know my responsibility. But I also know how easy it is to use other people’s responsibility to your advantage,” Rumple said, letting the words sit in the room for a moment. He thought, perhaps, that the Blue Fairy’s eyes flickered with fear, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Did you know?” he whispered. “That I wouldn't use the portal?"

The Blue Fairy faltered, then. She’d prepared for an entirely different conversation, and now she was stuck.

"I don't see what that--"

"You did, didn't you?" Rumple pressed. He had her in a corner, now, and he wouldn’t let her go. Not this time.

"If you're asking me whether I had faith in your ability to follow through on a promise to your son if it meant losing your power, then I'm sorry to say that no, I didn't,” she retorted. “Is that what you wanted to hear?"

The words stung, but Rumple shook them off. He was right, and she knew it. "Why did you want to come here?"

“It's not about me, it’s about you. You weren't supposed to have that magic!”

Rumple’s heart skipped a beat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Archie’s back straightening. The Blue Fairy took a breath and closed her eyes before continuing to speak. She’d said something she hadn’t meant to.

"What are you talking about?" Rumple said, his voice soft.

"You were supposed to be a Savior,” she said, opening her eyes and pinning their gaze onto his forehead. “And those are the most dangerous men to turn to the darkness. You're more powerful, more ambitious...more volatile. You couldn’t go on as other Dark Ones do. Your goal to find your son kept you in the light—just a little.”

She’d invented a game for him to play so he wouldn’t ruin hers. And his son—his Bae—had been collateral damage.

"You used my son as a pawn,” he murmured, not daring to look at her.

"Your son's love would have been wasted if I'd let him stay,” the Blue Fairy said, a defensive note in her voice. Did she really believe she was a protector of children, Rumple wondered, or did she just need everyone else to believe it? “You would have destroyed him."

"How dare you?" Rumple growled, and now he didn’t care what looking at her would do. She had no right, no right at all, to say such things. She was embarrassed by her own machinations, and now she was lashing out.

"I protected him, and I protected everyone else,” she said, her pitch raising with every word. “I even protected you!"

"Oh, yes, you've done a wonderful job of that.”

"You want to know about that prophecy? Zoso gave it to you because he knew it would lead you to do something foolish. And he was right,” she spat out, her cheeks turning red.

“Rumple!” Now Archie finally spoke, his hand grabbing Rumple’s shoulders, stopping him from taking a step he didn’t even realize he was taking. “Let’s go, okay? Let’s just go.”

Rumple didn’t quite know how they made it to the car, but neither of them dared speak until they were well out of sight of the nunnery.

“She admitted this was all her doing, did you hear that?” Rumple finally said, still breathless. “When children were being thrown to ogres, she was nowhere to be found. I’m the one who had to save them…and then as soon as she saw a way to control me, there she was. Manipulating my son.”

Archie looked as shaken as Rumple had ever seen him. He’d placed too much trust in the healing power of honest conversation. In Rumple’s experience, honesty was just as apt to cause harm as it was to mend.

“What she said was…shocking,” he finally managed. “And I don’t think anyone could blame you for being upset. Or confused or overwhelmed or…any number of things. But the important thing is we have the truth, and we have the ability to figure out how to use that truth to help us grow.”

He was still sticking to his mantras. Even as he inwardly scoffed, a part of Rumple felt relieved. Without good, trusting people, he’d have burned out long ago. A part of him would always want to be that sort of person—someone who believed that the world bent towards good. Someone who could help others see it, too.

“Is it fair for me to be angry?” Rumple asked, after a brief silence. His voice trembled. “When I’ve done the same thing, to others?”

“What do you mean?” Archie asked, though Rumple guessed he knew the answer. It wasn’t about what the therapist knew, he’d learned. It was about what the patient knew—what they needed to say in order to understand themselves.

“I mean…using people,” he said, wincing even as he said the words. “Using their children. Their fear.”

“Do _you_ think it’s fair?”

“Perhaps not,” Rumple replied. “But I never pretended to be right. Or good.”

“Does that make it worse? In your mind? To pretend?”

“When something looks like a monster, you know to run,” Rumple said. “And I suppose...”

Rumple bit his tongue. The statement had started off sounding right, but he knew halfway through he was wrong. He hated that feeling, that sense of knowing better, but not quickly enough.

Archie glanced over at him from the driver’s seat.

“…what were you going to say?”

Rumple closed his eyes.

“If they don’t run…you feel as if it’s their own fault. I know that’s not right—”

“—it’s not,” Archie interrupted, to Rumple’s relief. “But it follows a certain logic. Most of what we do—right or wrong—has a system behind it. And once you know what that system is, you can begin to untangle the good from the bad. And for you, the system tells you that what people see is what they should get. Does that make sense?”

“I’m not sure,” Rumple admitted.

Archie nodded. “When you first became the Dark One, did people see you as a monster because you were behaving like one, or did you start behaving like one because people saw you as a monster?”

When he said it so matter-of-factly, the reality of Rumple’s situation seemed silly. And anyway, it hadn’t been as simple as that.

“People had a right to be frightened,” he said, looking down at his hands. “The Dark One had stolen their children—”

“—and you saved them,” Archie said. “But that wasn’t enough, was it?”

Rumple didn’t want to think back on that time. He _had_ tried to please people, to make them feel at ease; he often tried to forget just how much. It hadn’t ever worked. They’d spat on him for being weak, and they’d shunned him for being strong. It hadn’t made any sense, and the darkness had laughed at him, every night, for still trying. For making himself small again to try and appease them.

“…no,” he finally said. “It was never enough.”

“You cling to other people’s opinions,” Archie said, his voice even. “Why?”

“You’re with yourself all the time,” Rumple replied. “How can you step back and see what it all means?”

"And what if people saw you as a Savior?"

"They wouldn't," Rumple said quickly. Of all the things the Blue Fairy had told him, that mattered to him the least. Perhaps it had been a distant possibility, once. It hadn't come to pass, and he'd be foolish to dwell on the words. 

"Why wouldn't they?"

"Because I'm not one. Never have been." 

Archie nodded, and the car fell into silence for the remainder of the ride. As they pulled up to the house, Rumple managed a smile as he saw Benji and Josie running wild with Pongo.

“They never stop, do they?” Archie said with a laugh.

“I hope not.” Rumple looked intently out the car window at his children, trying to ignore the fact that Archie was reading him like a book.

“The Blue Fairy doesn’t have any special knowledge about you,” Archie said after parking the car. “Don’t let her push you backwards.”

Rumple nodded. Sometimes, the only way to win was through ignoring the game altogether. He could manage it. He’d have to.

* * *

 

“A tracking spell? But how--?”

“I have a pen he let me borrow,” Belle explained as Rumple shifted on the couch to let Josie sit beside him. She clambered up and nuzzled herself into his side, sleepy after a long day of playing.

“Yes, but what about the magic?” Rumple asked, placing his arm around Josie.

“That’s what Cruella and Ursula wanted to talk to us about. They have those egg shells—just a little bit left, now. And they decided it’s better to use it for this than have a few extra years.”

Rumple sat up straighter. Cruella and Ursula had grown quite a bit since he’d first known them, but that sort of generosity seemed beyond them.

“They’re really letting you use them?”

“I know. I was as surprised as you,” Belle said, though Rumple knew it couldn’t be true. Belle believed in people, far more than he ever could. “But tell me about what happened with Blue.”

“She was as conceited and unhelpful as always,” Rumple said, and his attempts to hide how the event had shaken him made his voice cold. He hoped Belle didn’t notice.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I think, once we find Merlin—”

“What’s that?” Josie asked.

“Sorry, Belle…what’s what?” Rumple asked distractedly.

“Your neck is all shiny…” Josie said, reaching up for the back of his neck.

“My—?” Rumple ran his hand over his neck, and his heart dropped into his stomach. The skin was rough. Scaly.

He shut his eyes. “Belle, could I call you back?”

“Of course,” Belle said. “Is everything alright?”

“It’s…” Rumple almost said it was fine, but that wasn’t true, and she wouldn’t believe him anyway. 

“Belle, I…I’ll call you right back. Okay?”


	15. Chapter 15

Belle looked down at her phone again. Two hours, and nothing from Rumple.

“Are we going to do this today, or not?” Ursula said, interrupting Belle’s thoughts.

“He said he’d call right back—” she murmured, not to anyone in particular, though Cruella laughed.

“—the Dark One not being entirely truthful…knock me over with a feather…”

“He'll call when he can,” Ruby insisted, tossing a glare at Cruella. She placed a hand on Belle’s shoulder. “Let's just start, okay? The sooner we figure this out, the sooner we can get back to town, right?"

Belle took a deep breath.

"Right. So, how do we...?"

But before she could ask, someone knocked on Rumple’s apartment door. Everyone looked at Belle, as if she were any more the rightful owner of the property than they were. Puzzled, Belle strode to the door and looked through the peephole.

It was Merlin—or the man they thought to be Merlin, at any rate. Only they hadn’t cast the spell yet, which meant…Belle wasn’t sure what it meant, though she swung the door open with a confidence that suggested she’d found an answer instead of more questions.

"It's you,” she blurted out before thinking. “I mean...we were--"

"I know it,” Merlin said with a smile. “May I come in?"

Belle nodded and stepped back, allowing Merlin to enter the room. He was still dressed in an ordinary button-up shirt and slacks, yet Belle couldn’t understand why she hadn’t felt the magic radiating off of him from the start.

Cruella stepped forward. "When you said you were trying to summon Merlin, you didn't mention he'd be so...virile."

Merlin’s smiled widened in amusement.

"Cruella de Vil,” he said softly. “You caused quite a fuss, stealing that pen."

For the slightest instant, Cruella seemed thrown off-center by the comment, but she recovered quickly.

"I do my best, darling." 

Merlin turned to Ursula, whose shoulders straightened.

"Ursula,” he mumured. “Do you miss the water?"

Belle was sure he intended the comment kindly, but Ursula clenched her right hand into a fist.

"You aren't here for me,” she growled, and Merlin tactfully moved on to Ruby, who he eyed with confusion.

"Now, you...you I don't know,” he admitted.

"Ruby,” she replied. “I'm just here to help."

Merlin grinned, as though she’d told him much more than she had. “And isn’t that the best sort of person to have around?”

He didn’t seem to notice that they all were looking at him with a mixture of suspicion and intrigue, and, after a pause, Belle came to realize that he wouldn’t explain anything unless she asked.

"You are Merlin, aren't you?"

"I am,” he replied. “And I'm sorry I didn't tell you from the start. You see, I...miscalculated how quickly events would unfold. It happens when you're half stuck in a tree in another realm.”

Belle could see him start to laugh, but something in the room’s air must have made him think better of it. He continued, more seriously. “My intention was to create a gentle nudge—the smallest push needed to put everything in order—and then it turned out we needed more of hasty shove, I’m afraid."

  
"Because of Rumple,” Belle said.

"Yes.” Merlin strode over to the table, looking down at the shining pieces of dragon’s egg awaiting a now unnecessary purpose.

“I was aware that there might be consequences to having darkness sitting in a world that could not truly utilize its power, but I had no idea everything would unravel so quickly. Three years...I thought perhaps three decades might go by before any trouble started. And I was close enough, in the history of human events. But in the here and now…quite a bit far off.”

He smiled again, and though Belle could tell he’d made a joke, she wasn’t sure why it was funny. Indeed, though she had no reason as of yet to dislike Merlin, she already felt exasperated by his entire demeanor. He may well find the whole thing funny, what with his seer abilities and hundreds of years of wisdom. Belle did not.

“I’m sorry,” she said, knowing how insincere the words sounded. “I’m just confused. What did you want me here for?”

Now, finally, Merlin looked at her with intent, and there was no trace on whimsy on his face.

“Magic has changed much since I first tasted it…it’s more rigid, more exacting. Easier to digest. There’s good and bad, and the simplest child can be taught the difference. Fairies are good…all except the dark ones, of course, and you can see them coming a mile away.”

He began to pace, though not in the usual, hurried manner. It was more like swaying, like floating…as if he’d rather not use his feet at all.

“Then there’s the Dark One—an entity I’m afraid I oversaw the creation of,” Merlin said. “Evil incarnate, housed in a person.”

Merlin frowned, and though Belle couldn’t see at all what his words had to do with her question, she knew they were important.

“But that’s the trouble with everything, now,” he continued. “You see, good and evil…they are _choices_ , not people. And eventually…eventually…the magic will come free from the constraints we’ve placed upon it. You, Belle, are to help with that.”

Setting magic free from constraints set upon it by centuries on centuries? Whatever Belle had envisioned Merlin asking her to do, it hadn’t been that.

“How?” she asked, feeling the question was quite pathetic in the face of such grand scheming, but not knowing how else to register her utter confusion.

“By doing what you do naturally, without thinking,” Merlin said, and he did not look half so concerned as she did about the magnitude of the project. “Love and understanding—the most active, powerful, ever-changing and yet eternal properties in any realm. The most _human_. Your love can change everything.”

Belle felt her heart sink.

“You mean, True Love’s Kiss? It didn’t work, and there was a prophecy—”

“—oh, you mustn’t place any stock in prophecies,” Merlin said, waving his hand in a dismissive manner that Belle felt was quite uncalled for. “They mean what they mean, and you won’t know what that is until it’s happened. Anyway, once you’ve translated them into something you can understand, they’re practically nonsense anyhow. You’d be better off drawing a prediction out of a hat.”

“Oh.”

It wasn’t much better than the advice the Apprentice had given her, but hearing it from someone else somehow made it feel less like a therapeutic exercise and more like a tangible fact. She couldn’t know—no one could. If Merlin believed otherwise, he would tell her. Belle still wasn’t sure if she liked him or not, but she trusted him to at least tell her the truth as he understood it.

“As for True Love’s Kiss…” Merlin continued. “It’s flashy, but it’s not worth fussing over, and it’s not what I meant. You see, all love is true and eternal. If it isn’t, it can’t be love at all. The relationships might not last, and death takes all of us eventually, but the love itself? Always true and always living in some form or another.”

Anyone who’d felt love could sense the truth of what he was saying, Belle knew that. But still…there’d been something to the moment when she’d kissed Rumple for the first time. Something different than anything else that had happened to them. Hadn’t there?

Merlin didn’t appear to notice the knot forming in Belle’s brow, for he continued.

“True love, Eternal love…they are the ignorant boasts of people who have found that magic and love run parallel tracks, and every so often a spark from one will carry over to the other. They’re delightful to look at, when they pop up. But their existence doesn’t make the love any more true or eternal.”

Belle was tempted to ask, “then what’s the point?” but thought better of it, choosing instead a safer:

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Look here: if I gave you a scroll with a bit of writing on it, you might be able to read it. You might not. But it would have words, just the same. That’s the only difference between a spark of true love and any other kind of love. The magic transcribes what we already know to be there. It’s already true. You have to believe that. No matter what. The sparks will come; they always do. But you have to believe in love even when they aren’t there.”

They were pretty words, to be sure, but Belle still felt as though she was being told things that were far aside from the point.

“So…” she stumbled. “What do we _do_?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Merlin looked quite alive, sharper and more vibrant than anything else in the room. “The only question, really. I suppose you go on living and trying and loving. Time will sort everything else out.”

Belle took a deep breath. “So…you don’t know how to stop what’s happening?”

Here, Merlin looked disappointed. He’d clearly expected her to be more relieved, perhaps even impressed, by what he’d told her.

“If I did, I assure you I’d give you the answer straight away,” he said, and Belle believed him. “All I know is what I’ve told you, what I’ve tried to accomplish. And that’s love. It’s why I’ve come now. Don’t waste your magic on me.”

“But—there’s a reason that these things keep happening,” Belle insisted. “It’s as though something is against Rumple. Or against us. Or…I don’t know what.”

Merlin shook his head. “It’s not what anyone is against; it’s what the world is _for_ that matters. The world seeks order. Order before beauty, before love, before unity…it can be a wretched thing, but it is true. Perhaps the world will become wild again. I do not know. I think we’d be better for it, in the end. But in the meantime, we fight for our own pieces of disorder, don’t we?”

He grinned at the other women in the room, who all looked taken aback at being addressed. Belle looked at the confusion on their faces, then looked back at Merlin—or rather, the space Merlin had been, for he’d vanished.

“I hope you don’t my saying so, darling, but that was one of the most impressive bouts of rubbish I’ve ever had the misfortune to hear,” Cruella sneered, sounding anything but apologetic. “You’re quite lucky he showed up before we wasted our magic on _that_. I might never have forgiven you, and I’m told I have a habit of being rather unpleasant.”

Belle, however, felt that the visit had been illuminating, though not at all in the way she’d expected.

 

* * *

 

Rumple still hadn’t called, and Belle knew she was facing a sleepless night if she didn’t buckle down and do it herself. To her surprise, he answered before the end of the first ring. Had he been waiting for her?

However, the way he said her name told her that he’d much rather have saved the conversation for another time.

“You said you’d call—” she said, trying her best not to sound accusatory.

“I did,” he sighed. “I did. I’m sorry, it’s just that…”

He was fumbling for the words, but Belle couldn’t wait. She didn’t want any more pretty words, not from anyone.

“—what’s happened?”

“—you’d better come back,” Rumple said, a hardness in his voice. “Finding Merlin…it doesn’t matter, now.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t leave,” he said, his voice strained. “She’s made it so I can’t leave.”

Belle frowned. “Who?”

“That damned fairy, that’s who!” His voice lowered to a whisper despite its venom, which Belle took to mean the children were not entirely out of earshot.

“She’s changed the town line?”

“She’s changed _me_.”


End file.
